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‘•Thekla cast one hopeless look around, then he sprang to his churn’s 
side, just as the fiail boat plunged under the surface of the river.” 

(See page 86) 



THE VALLEY OF 
MYSTERY 


OR 


The Search for the Flower of Gold 


A Story of Venezuela 


BY 

HENRY HARRISON LEWIS 

AUTHOR OF 

“Yankee Boys in Japan,” “King of the Island,’* 
“Won at West Point,” etc. 





NEW YORK AND LONDON 
street & SMITH, PUBLISHERS 


THE LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS. 

Two Copies Received 


lUL 15 >903 


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Entry 


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CU XXc, No. 


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COPY b: 



Copyright, 1903 
By STREET & SMITH 

The Valley of Mystery 



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CONTENTS 


CHAPTER page 

I — Thekla Makes a Chance Acquaintance . 7 

II — The Discovery of the Wonderful Leaf . 16 

III— The Solving of the Mysterious Cryptogram . 25 

IV — Cyclops Hoists His True Colors . . 36 

V— The Vanishing of the Cryptogram . . 45 

VI — The Plot in the Dark . . . . 51 

VII — Cyclops is Crafty 61 

VIII— Thekla Scents Trouble .... 69 

IX — In Deadly Peril 78 

X — Quebracho 87 

XI — Cyclop’s Story 96 

XII— The Cry from the Jungle ... 104 

XIII— Cyclops and the Boa Constrictor — Flight of 

the Traitors iii 

XIV— Cyclops Plays His Part . . . . 118 

XV— A Flash of Steel 127 

XVI — Thekla is Stricken . . . . 133 

XVII— Caught at Last 140 

XVIII — Wynne’s Fortunate Discovery . . 150 


ii CONTENTS 

CHAPTBR PACK 

XIX — Cyclops’ Diabolical Threat — Wynne on 

the Warpath 157 

XX — The Song of the Blowpipe . . 164 

XXI — The Valley of Mystery .... 173 

XXII — Quebracho Changes His Mind . . 180 

XXlil — The Parachute Company of Venezuela 
' (Limited) 187 

XXIV — Discovered! 195 

XXV — The Light from the Summit . . .201 

XXVI — Captured! 210 

XXVII— In the Cell 217 

XXVIII — Quebracho Has an Opinion . . 224 

XXIX — The Ceremony in the Great Room . 232 

XXX — Wynne Explains .... 238 

XXXI— The Stranger is Identified . . . 245 

XXXII— The Storm 253 

XXXIII — The Flight to the Summit . . . 259 

XXXIV — The Retreat to the Summit . . 266 

XXXV— The Breaking of the Ladder of Vines . 273 

XXXVI — Conclusion 282 


THE VALLEY OF MYSTERY. 


CHAPTER I. 

THEKLA MAKES A CHANCE ACQUAINTANCE. 

“Look out, fellows ; you will upset that table.” 

“What if we do? It’s none of your funeral.” 

“Very well ; go ahead, but if the boss catches you, it will 
be a case of quit, you know.” 

“Oh, go back to your old dried herbs, Thekla Morse, 
and leave us alone. We’re able to take care of ourselves. 
Hi, Jack, you are it !” 

Through the dingy windows of a large loft in one of 
the upper stories of a New York wholesale drug house the 
morning sun was shining with wintry splendor. 

The room into which it sent its light was large and un- 
plastered. Shelves filled with empty bottles lined the 
walls. Long rows of rough tables, bearing innumerable 
glass graduates and mortars used in compounding drugs, 
occupied the center. Up and down among the fragile 


8 A Chance Acquaintance. 

ware scurried two laughing boys, devoting their em- 
ployer’s time to an exciting game of tag. 

Over in one corner a thin-faced lad of perhaps seven- 
teen years of age, with large, dark eyes and curly black 
hair, was seated in front of a low desk covered with me- 
dicinal roots and plants. 

His countenance was frank and open, the mouth seemed 
gifted with a trick of smiling, the eyes were fearless, and 
the features clear-cut and regular. 

He was obviously an American boy, but there was some- 
thing in his face which hinted at a foreign strain. A 
physiognomist skilled in his craft would have said that 
Greek blood flowed in. Thekla Morse’s veins — and he 
would have been right. 

There was little of interest in the lad’s history. It is a 
story similar to that of many boys who have been cast 
upon the world to earn their own living, and who have 
struggled bravely with poverty’s hosts. 

His father had been a restless ne’er-do-well, with a pas- 
sion for travel and a fondness for natural sciences. In 
one of his journeys around the world he had married a 
native of Athens, Greece, and had brought her to America, 
where she died soon after the birth of her son. 

The father resumed his wanderings, and finally van- 
ished from the ken of all who knew him. Thekla was 


A Chance Acquaintance. 9 

brought up in a small village near New York, and 
launched, at an early age, upon his own resources. After 
much buffeting about, he had finally secured a minor po- 
sition in a wholesale drug house. 

He was a lover of nature by instinct and personal de- 
sire. His knowledge of botany had won him early ad- 
vancement, and, at the time this story commences, he was 
an inspector of drugs at a modest salary. 

After kindly warning the reckless boys playing about 
the table on this bright winter morning, Thekla returned 
to his task of inspection. He was in the act of examining 
a fragment of root through a powerful glass, when a 
startled cry came to his ears. 

Hastily glancing up, he saw a small table loaded with 
valuable glass graduates toppling to its fall. Standing 
nearby were the youngsters, evidently helpless with con- 
sternation. 

Thekla sprang to his feet, and attempted to catch the 
edge of the falling table, but he was a second too late. 
Down it went, with a prodigious crash, and into the midst 
of the debris tumbled the lad, drawn over by his efforts to 
avert the disaster. 

As he scrambled erect, with hands and face cut and 
bleeding from contact with the broken glass, he heard one 
of the boys give a warning cry, then both hastily retreated, 


lO A Chance Acquaintance. 

just as a door opened at the end of the room. A large 
man, with a red face, stepped inside. 

“What was that crash I heard in here?’" he harshly 
demanded, glaring around the room. 

His eyes fell upon the wreck in the center, and both 
pudgy hands went up with a gesture of rage. 

“Ten thousand furies!'’ he thundered. “What does 
this mean? How dare you upset that — that table and 
break those graduates, Thekla Morse? You — you young 
scamp, your wages for a year won’t pay for them.” 

“Mr. Robinson, I ” 

“Silence ! Would you talk back to me ?” 

“I simply wanted to say that ” 

“Trying to deny that you upset the table, eh?” sneered 
the man. “It won’t work, my fine lad. Circumstantial 
evidence is enough for me. I step in here, after hearing 
the crash, and find you crawling out of the mess. What 
more is needed? Umph! You are too careless for our 
employ.” 

Thekla paled slightly, but he resolutely stood his 
ground. The injustice of the accusation angered him. 
He glanced around for the boys, but they had discreetly 
withdrawn. He was left to shoulder their blame. 

“Mr. Robinson,” he began, warmly, “I did not upset 
that -table. I fell while trying to save it.” 


II 


A Chance Acquaintance, 

“A likely story/’ replied the druggist, whose rage had 
increased as he mentally calculated the damage. “If you 
are not the culprit, who is ?” 

Thekla remained silent. His boyish sense of honor 
would not permit him to play the role of telltale. He 
knew full well that he could not hope for indulgence if he 
refused to answer the question, but he quietly held his 
peace. 

“Ah ! that caught you,” grimly remarked his employer. 
“You cannot reply. Enough ; you are discharged.” 

“Discharged, Mr. Robinson? This is unjust, sir. I 
have done nothing ” 

“Tut, I’ll have no further words with you. The 
quicker you get out of the building, the better I will like it. 
You have cost me a pretty penny by this day’s work. I’ll 
not be hard on you, though. You can ask the bookkeeper 
for the money due you.” 

Thekla bowed politely, and returned to his desk without 
a word. He secured his few private papers and trinkets, 
and descended to the office. He collected his salary for 
the three days he had worked during the week, and left 
the building. 

As he passed out through the front door, he gave a little 
shrug of regret. The position had come to him after 
weary months of hopeless search after work. He had 


12 A Chance Acquaintance. 

liked his duties, and he had been told more than once that 
close attention and faithfulness would assure him pro- 
motion. 

"‘And now to lose it through no fault of mine,” he mut- 
tered. “It’s too bad. Confound those boys — I’d like to 
punch their heads.” 

His vexation did not last. He recalled the ludicrous 
part of the recent accident, and laughed to himself. His 
was a sunny nature. After walking a few paces from the 
entrance to the drug house, he thrust one hand into his 
pockets, and produced several bills and a few pieces of 
silver. 

“Let’s see. Two dollars and ten, twenty-five, and fifty, 
makes seventy-five. Two dollars and seventy-five cents. 
That’s not much for a hungry boy with no income. I 
wonder what Wynne will say ? He’ll take it like the good 
fellow he is. He’ll grin and commence some of those 
confounded verses of his. Heigho! it’s good to have a 
true friend in these hard times.” 

He laughed again, and started off down the street at a 
rapid walk. While passing an adjacent corner, he almost 
ran into a man. Both stopped, and exchanged half apolo- 
getic glances, as persons will under such circumstances. 

Thekla’s gaze was keen, and he speedily saw that his 
neighbor was rather out of the common run. The fellow 


A Chance Acquaintance. 13 

was almost a giant in stature. His face was round and 
hearty, and there was an air of great jollity about him. 
In fact, he had a cheerful appearance, and an alert free- 
dom of manner, which suggested honesty and good fel- 
lowship. 

There was a broad scar running across his cheek, and 
one eye was missing. Its mate seemed bright and pene- 
trating enough for two, however. But the most con- 
spicuous part of the man was a polished steel hook, which 
did duty for a left hand. 

As Thekla attempted to walk on after his mental sur- 
vey, the sailor — for such his costume proclaimed him — 
deftly reached out and inserted the point of the hook into 
the lad’s upper buttonhole. 

“ ’Sense me, young fellow,” he rumbled, in a hoarse 
voice, “but would ye be kind enough to give a mate a few 
directions ?” 

“Certainly, sir,” politely replied Thekla. “What is it 
you wish to know ?” 

“I’m looking for a consarn what deals in drugs. I’ve 
lost my bearings, and I can’t tell just where the place may 
be. It’s the house of Smith & Robinson.” 

“I think I can direct you, sir,” smiled Thekla. “I have 
just left there. It is right up this street, not more than a 
dozen doors. You can see the sign from here.” 


14 A CHance Acquaintance. 

He attempted to resume his walk, but the hook held him 
fast. 

“'Scuse me if I detain ye a moment,” rumbled the 
sailor ; “but could ye tell me if they are generous people ?” 

The lad hesitated. He recalled his recent bitter experi- 
ence. There was nothing generous in the way he had 
been treated by the junior member of the firm. He had 
been summarily dismissed without an opportunity to prove 
his undoubted innocence. No, the firm was certainly not 
generous. 

“Why do you ask ?” he queried. 

The sailor thrust his hand into a capacious side pocket 
and drew forth an odd-appearing bundle. It was about 
the size of a small hornet’s nest, and greatly resembled 
one. The outer cover was grayish in color, and seemed to 
be the leaf of some large plant. Bound around the bundle 
were a number of flexible vines. These had been loos- 
ened, and the ends of several roots protruded through one 
side. 

Thekla’s quick eye recognized them at once. 

“Why, that is Venezuelan sarsaparilla,” he exclaimed. 

“Death of my eye! how did you know that, young 
fellar ?” asked his companion, in surprise. 

“It is my business,” modestly replied Thekla. “I am 
familiar with crude drugs.” 


A Chance Acquaintance. 15 

“Good. Then ye can tell me what this here bundle is 
worth.” 

“About thirty cents,” was the prompt reply. “Sarsa- 
parilla is not very valuable. Did you intend to offer it to 
Smith & Robinson ?” 

“That I did. But are ye sartain about them figures?” 
asked the sailor, in a voice of extreme disappointment. 

“Yes ; and, furthermore, the firm would not buy it at all. 
They only purchase in large quantities, and from regular 
dealers. May I ask where you secured the bundle ? It is 
very curious. The outside leaf is new to me.” 

Thekla bent over and eagerly examined it. The sailor 
dexterously released his hook, and meditatively stroked 
his chin with the steel instrument. 

“I like your looks, mate,” he said, presently, “and I 
think I will confide in ye. Jes’ step out o' the channel, 
where we can talk in peace.” 


CHAPTER IL 


THE DISCOVERY OF THE WONDERFUL LEAF. 

“In the first place, yeTe right about that being Ven- 
ezuela stuff,” he began. “I know, because I got it down 
there myself. Some three months ago I left a ship in 
Georgetown, British Guiana, and went up country with a 
party prospecting for gold. 

“We traveled for several weeks, and finally camped on a 
river called, in the outlandish lingo they use down there, 
the Mazaruni. We were nigh spent, and some were sick 
of a fever. 

“We stayed there six days, and then concluded to give 
up the job. The morning we started back to civilization, 
I found this here bundle lying on the bank of the river, 
where it had been cast by the current. 

“I stowed it away, with never a thought, ontil I got 
back to Georgetown. I shipped aboard a bark for New 
York, and just before leaving port I opened the blooming 
thing. It had nothing but a lot of old roots and leaves in 
it. I tossed it into my chest, and didn’t disturb it ag’in 
ontil this morning.” 


The Discovery. 17 

The speaker heaved a prodigious sigh, and gently 
passed his hook over his sound optic. 

“Have ye ever been poverty-struck, youngster?” he 
asked, rriournfully. 

Thekla nodded gravely. 

“Then ye can feel for a poor feller. I am drifting with- 
out a rudder this morning. I live here in New York, and 
I’ve a wife and three kids. The baby is just cutting his 
teeth. I’m down on my blooming luck, and I ain’t got a 
shot in th’ locker. One of the kids is sick with the croup, 
and he needs a doctor purty bad. I was on my way to 
sell this here bundle, but what you have told me has car- 
ried away my last bit of canvas.” 

“Your child is ill, you say?” replied Thekla, sympa- 
thetically. 

“Yes, he’s purty bad. If I don’t git a doctor some- 
where it’ll go hard with him. I don’t like to see little 
Jimmy go, and ’Sense me.” 

A great, salty tear splashed upon Thekla’s coat sleeve. 
The lad thrust one hand into his pocket, and produced his 
money. Hastily selecting a dollar and a half, he pressed 
it upon his companion. 

“Here, take this, please,” he said, softly. “I would like 
to give you more, but I am limited this morning.” 

“Bless yer good heart, youngster,” exclaimed the sailor, 


1 8 The Discovery. 

fervently. “I thank ye, but I can’t take it. Ye don’t 
know me at all.” 

“I know that you are in trouble, and that’s enough. 
Take it, please, and get a doctor for little Jimmy.” 

“Well, may old Nick fly away with Cyclops McGinnis — 
that’s me — if I ever forgit this here day. It shows that 
there is some people in the world with hearts. I’ll take it 
fur my kid’s sake, but I’ll pay ye back. What’s yer 
name ?” 

“Thekla Morse.” 

“Well, Thekla, I thank ye with the gratitood of a father. 
I live at No. 34 River Street. If ye’re down that way 
drop in and see my kids. I’ll try to have the money for 
ye, too.” 

“Do not worry about it. Get the doctor as soon as 
possible.” 

Thekla bowed, and started to walk away, but Cyclops 
McGinnis’ hook caught him by the arm. The peculiar 
bundle was thrust into his hand and the sailor rumbled, 
heartily : 

“Jes’ take that along as security. No, don’t ye dare to 
refuse. It don’t amount to much, but it is somethin’. 
Good-by.” 

^ Thekla laughed, and accepted the package of sarsa- 
Jfrparilla. Cyclops waved his hook genially, and disap- 


Tlie Discovery. 


^9 


peared around the corner. He peeped back once, and then 
stalked into a liquor saloon, with a grin upon his round, 
good-natured face. 

All unconscious of his late companion’s perfidy, Thekla 
hastened on his way. While walking along, he drew 
forth the remainder of his money, and counted it, with a 
droll smile. 

“One dollar and twenty-five cents. Humph ! the re- 
serve fund has taken a decided drop. Thekla Morse, you 
need some one to take care of you. Well, poor fellow, 
I hope he gets the doctor in time.” 

He hurried down to a street leading from the East 
River. Stopping in front of an old rickety frame house, 
he whistled shrilly. A head, crowned with a shock of 
red hair, appeared at one of the upper windows, and a 
thin, piping voice called down : 

“Gee- whiz ! is that you, Thekla? What are you doing 
here? Have you quit your job?” 

“No, I am fired. Kicked out — given the grand bounce ; 
trollied,” laughed Thekla. 

“Yoir don’t tell me ? Gee-whiz ! Come up quick, and 
explain yourself.” 



The lad ascended three flights of stairs, and entere ( 


room directly under the roof. The apartment was small. 


20 


The Discovery. 


but scrupulously neat. It contained two cots, a center 
table, several wooden chairs, and a small cooking stove. 

Certain culinary utensils hanging neatly upon the wall 
indicated that the occupants were accustomed to house- 
keeping. A tea kettle upon the stove sang cheerily, and 
from a small pot came a savory odor. 

Thekla sniffed hungrily. 

“I’m just in time for dinner, eh?” he asked. “You are 
a sly dog, Wynne Teeters. You wait until I go to work, 
then you live high.” 

He tossed the bundle given him by Cyclops McGinnis 
upon the table, and turned to the other occupant of the 
room. He was a lad of about sixteen. A thin, pale face, 
a head set close to a pair of broad shoulders ; the back 
curved in a distinct hunch ; long, sinewy arms, giving 
promise of strength, and an ever-present air of cheerful- 
ness. 

Such was Wynne Teeters, Thekla’s roommate and 
chum. He was an orphan, and forced to make his own 
way through the world. He was deformed in body, but 
exceedingly clever and shrewd in mind. He had one af- 
fection and idol on earth. And that was Thekla. 

“Well, old fellow, I suppose you are just dying to hear 
I happened to lose my job?” laughed the latter. He 
lifted the lid from the pot, and peeped at the contents. 


The Discovery. 21 

“I would like to know, but first let me celebrate the 
event with a few appropriate verses,” replied Wynne, 
picking up a well-worn violin. 

''If you commence I’ll eat every morsel of this stew,” 
exclaimed Thekla, warningly. 

Wynne dropped the instrument with a comical grimace. 

"I’ll give up. Go ahead and spin your yarn. Did you 
ask to be admitted as a member of the firm ?” 

His companion explained his misadventures at the drug 
house, and told how he had left with dignity. He then 
described his meeting with Cyclops McGinnis. 

"Wynne, you would be charmed with him,” he laughed. 
"He is a great character. He looks as if he had just 
stepped from a romance of piratical adventures. You 
could make verses galore about him.” 

"Did you say he was in trouble?” 

"Yes ; the poor man’s little boy is ill. He wanted to 

get a doctor for him, but he hadn’t any What’s the 

matter, now?” 

Thekla paused, and glanced guiltily at Wynne. The 
latter held up one finger, and shook it solemnly. 

"Thekla Morse, how much money did you receive from 
the firm?” he asked. 

"Two dollars and seventy-five cents.” 

"Where is it?” 


22 


The Discovery. 


“I — that is — pshaw ! what do you want to ’’ 

“Where is it?’' repeated the hunchback, inexorably. 

Thekla emptied his pockets, and placed the money in his 
companion’s outstretched hand. The latter counted it 
with great deliberation. 

“H’m! I thought so,” he said. “You have gone and 
given a perfect stranger more than half your wages.” 

“His little boy needed a doctor, and — and I didn’t like 
to see the poor fellow worry,” explained Thekla, half apol- 
ogetically. 

He hesitated, then added, with an air of conviction : 

“You would have done the same, old fellow ; you know 
you would.” 

“You will never get along in this world,” retorted 
Wynne, severely. 

But his eyes glistened with a suspicion of moisture, and 
he gave his companion an affectionate glance. 

Thekla bustled about the room, singing gayly. He 
prepared the table for dinner, and served the stew with a 
skill born of long experience. 

“How are the orders for verse, Wynne?” he asked, dur- 
ing a pause. “Many coming in ?” 

“I received an order for one hundred this morning,” re- 
plied the hunchback, taking up a letter from a home-made 
desk in one corner. “This is the last of the season, you 


The Discovery. 23 

know. St. Valentine’s Day is week after next. After 
that, the business will be slow.” 

Thekla sat down at the table, and eyed the speaker 
whimsically. 

“I guess you’ve got about as queer a profession as any 
boy in New York,” he remarked. “How many fine ladies 
who receive those dainty valentines, with their sentimental 
verses, would imagine they were written by one Wynne 
Teeters, in the attic room of a house on this street?” 

Wynne laughed cheerily, and seated himself on the op- 
posite side of the table. 

‘T am afraid the knowledge would kill all the romance. 
Things are seldom what they seem in this world. Fancy 
me posing as Cupid, with wings and a bow? The bus- 
iness is a queer one, as you say, but it pays, after a fashion. 
When this last order is filled, it will mean over fifty dol- 
lars in our mutual bank.” 

“You call it mutual, but I guess it’s mostly yours,” said 
Thekla, ruefully. “And, to make matters worse, here I’ve 
gone and lost my job.” 

“Don’t let that worry you. What is mine is yours, you 
know.” 

“Thanks, old fellow,” gratefully replied Thekla. “You 
have got a heart as big as your body. You know I appre- 
ciate your kindness. I won’t be out of work long. There 


24 The Discovery. 

must be something in this great city for a willing boy 
to do.” 

At the conclusion of the humble meal, Wynne went to 
his desk, and commenced work. Thekla cleaned the 
dishes with great expertness, and then donned his hat. 

“Guess ril look around, and see if any person is pining 
for a handy boy,” he said. “I’ll read the papers, while 
I’m downtown, and answer the advertisements. If I’m 
not back by six don’t wait supper.” 

As he walked toward the door, his eyes fell upon the 
odd-looking bundle given him by Cyclops McGinnis. 

“I wonder if I can’t sell that sarsaparilla?” he mused. 
“Probably some druggist would give me a half-dollar for 
it. I’ll just see if it is in good condition.” 

He removed the outer covering with some difficulty. 
A number of tough withes strange to him had been skill- 
fully bound around the package. The leaf in which it 
had been inclosed was almost as strong as leather. 

The contents were finally spread out upon the table. 
As he critically examined each stem and root, Thekla sud- 
denly came upon something that brought him to his feet 
with a cry of amazement. 


CHAPTER III. 


THE SOLVING OF THE MYSTERIOUS CRYPTOGRAM. 

Wynne turned from his desk, and saw Thekla eagerly 
examining a small object held in his right hand. 

“What in Orpheus’ name have you found now ?” he de- 
manded. “A thousand-dollar diamond ?” 

“No, but it is almost as valuable to me,” replied Thekla. 
“Just look at this.” 

He held up a queer-shaped leaf, about the size of a 
man’s hand. It was of a dead-gold color, and the edges 
were serrated in a curious manner. It was withered and 
crumpled as if from age, and the outer edges were shriv- 
eled up. 

“Humph ! it is nothing but an old leaf,” said Wynne, in 
evident disappointment. 

“An old leaf!” replied Thekla, turning a face flushed 
with joy to his companion. “An old leaf! Why, it’s a 
splendid specimen of a plant supposed to have been ex- 
tinct years ago. It’s of the genus Aureola grandi- 
nora ” 


*'Gimme it in English.” 


26 The Mysterious Cryptogram. 

“That means ‘plant of gold,’ ” explained the young 
botanist. 

“But it isn’t gold.” 

“It gets that name from its color, and from the legend 
that wherever it is found extensive deposits of the precious 
metal exist.” 

“Bosh and balderdash !” 

“I guess so. I don’t care much about that part of it. 
I’m just tickled to death at my great good luck in run- 
ning across this specimen. Whoop ! do you know what 
that means, Wynne? There are only two others known. 
One is in the British Museum, and the second is in our 
Smithsonian Institute. And just to think that I have one, 
also. Hurrah !” 

“Gee- whiz! is that so? It must be worth something, 
then,” exclaimed Wynne, his contempt for the leaf disap- 
pearing with ludicrous rapidity. 

“Probably a thousand dollars. But I — I don’t care to 
sell it.” 

“What! Gee- whiz! What! Don’t care to sell it? 
Thekla Morse, you are plumb crazy. What in thunder 
do you mean ?” 

“I’d like to keep it. Fancy having such a rare prize 
in my collection.” 

Wynne fell into a chair, and fairly gasped for breath. 


The Mysterious Cryptogram. 27 

The very idea that a boy in his sane mind would prefer 
to retain a miserable old leaf when it could be sold for a 
thousand dollars was beyond his power of comprehension. 

Thekla hurried to their solitary window, and held the 
precious specimen in a ray of sunlight. 

‘‘Why, I declare, it’s all marked with queer-looking 
characters !” he suddenly called out. “Look, Wynne.” 

The latter peered over his shoulder, and saw faintly in- 
scribed upon the under side of the leaf a number of odd- 
shaped symbols. They were so dim that merely an oc- 
casional outline was visible. They appeared to have been 
inscribed with the indelible juice of some plant. 

“What is it — writing?” asked the hunchback, curiously. 

Thekla produced a magnifying-glass, and after a care- 
ful examination, replied, eagerly : 

“It is a cryptogram, as sure as I live. Wynne Teeters, 
we are in the presence of some wonderful mystery. Quick, 
get out your camera. Perhaps the characters will become 
clearer in a photograph.” 

Wynne caught the contagion of his companion’s excite- 
ment. He drew a camera from a closet and proceeded to 
take the picture. The wonderful leaf was held against a 
dark background, and the desired exposure obtained. In 
ten minutes the plate was developed. 


* 


28 The Mysterious Cryptogram. 

“My! What funny characters! Look at that wiggly 
thing with the tail. What under the sun can it mean ?” 

Wynne’s question fell upon unheeding ears. Thekla 
was lost in contemplation of the curious writing. He 
pored over each character with extreme patience. Pres- 
ently, rising to his feet, he turned to his companion, with a 
puzzled expression upon his handsome face. 

“I declare, some of the characters look familiar to me,” 
he said, thoughtfully. “If I am not mistaken, that first 
mark which resembles a figure five with an extra twist to 
the lower curve, is the botanical arbitrary symbol for a 
plant with a woody stem. And the next means a perfect 
flower.” 

“Gee-whiz! How did you know that?” admiringly ex- 
claimed Wynne. “What’s the rest ?” 

“I give it up. It stumps me. Old fellow, we are on 
the track of some mystery. It’s certainly a cryptogram.” 

“That means secret writing, doesn’t it?” 

“Yes. I wish to goodness I could read it. Why, just 
think ; this leaf came all the way from the interior of Ven- 
ezuela. Cyclops McGinnis said he found the bundle on 
the bank of the Mazaruni River. Who knows? Prob- 
ably it is a message or something.” 

“That’s so,” excitedly replied the hunchback. “And 
there may be diamonds and valuables and — and lots of 


The Mysterious Cryptogram. 29 

good things behind it all. Say, why don’t you take the 
leaf down to Herr Dunderbach ? He reads puzzles.” 

“By Jove ! you are right. The professor ought to help 
us out. Come.” 

The boys raced down two flights of stairs, and knocked 
at the door of a little back room. 

A shrill, high-pitched voice bade them enter. They 
found a spare old man in a black skullcap bending over a 
thick volume as dusty and sear as himself. 

“Ah, the little boys mit de top floor, eh?” he wheezed. 
“What you want mit de professor? Your faces, dey all 
shine mit excitement.” 

“Please tell us what these characters mean, sir ?” asked 
Thekla, in a trembling voice. 

The professor took the photograph, and after examining 
it briefly, returned it, with a snort of contempt. 

“Ach ! I have no time to waste mit such foolishness,” 
he said. “I read him like mine newspaper. The first 
line, him say, ‘Plant having a woody stem — ^perfect flowers 
— gold.’ Vere you get dis, eh?” 

“Go on, please, sir,” exclaimed Thekla, in an agony of 
suspense. “It is very important for us to know what it 
means. You say the circle with a dot means gold ?” 

“Yah, dot ees right. You are goot boys. Wait, I draw 
me ein large copy and explain for you. Now, you see dere 


30 The Mysterious Cryptogram. 

is ein line underneath, then dot figure like ein eight lying 
down, and ein oder gold character. Dot figure eight 
means mooch.'^ 

“Mooch?” 

“Yah — mooch, blenty.” 

“Oh, much.” 

“Yah. Now, what in dunner and blitzen means dot line 
separating dem ?” 

“I think I know,” spoke up Thekla, eagerly. “The 
symbols for ‘much’ and ‘gold’ are beneath those meaning 
the ‘woody plant,’ and the ‘perfect flower of gold.’ Hur- 
rah ! it is plain enough. It means that much gold will be 
found in the ground under where the perfect flowers of 
gold grow. Isn’t th^t clear ?” 

“As mud,” said Wynne, with a dry chuckle. 

“Yah, I believe me dot ees right,” coincided Professor 
Dunderbach. “Now for de oder half of the leaf. But 
vere did you get dis photograph, mein friend?” r 

“Go ahead; I’ll tell you later,” replied Thekla, im- 
patiently. 

For fully five minutes the professor studied the queer- 
looking characters, then he consulted a musty book. 
After a brief search, his face lighted up. 

“Ach, I have it,” he exclaimed, triumphantly. “Dot 
first figure is the earth — ^the globe. Dot arrow points to 






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The Mysterious Cryptogram. 31 

the northeast corner of the southern half of the western 
hemisphere. Now, what country ees dot?” 

“Venezuela,” promptly replied Thekla. “There it is 
on your wall map. Now, what is that curved thing with 
the death’s-head in it?” 

“A poisoned cup?” suggested Wynne. 

“Nein, it ees nix cup. It ees — it ees ” 

Herr Dunderbach scratched his head in evident perplex- 
ity. His face fairly beamed with excitement. He had 
at last found game worthy of his analytical mind. 

“The curved line certainly means a hollow of some 
kind,” said Thekla. “Now, what ” 

“Gott in Himmel ! I have him,” suddenly exclaimed the 
professor, dropping his glasses. “It ees ein valley — ein 
valley, understand? And the skull, it mean deat’ — ^the 
deat’ valley. Ach ! dis ees splendid.” 

“The death valley?” echoed Thekla, wonderingly. 

“And those cross lines must stand for a prison, or some- 
thing,” put in Wynne, breathlessly. “See; they are just 
like prison bars. And that cross behind them indicates 
that a man — the writer, I guess — is a prisoner. Whoop !” 

“I understand it all now,” said the young botanist, wild 
with delight. “Some one is confined against his will in a 
valley of death located in the interior of Venezuela. In 
the same place, the ‘flower of gold’ can be found.” 


32 The Mysterious Cryptogram. 

“Which means mines upon mines of gold,” exclaimed 
Wynne, joyfully. 

“Vat ees it all about ?” queried the professor. “I under- 
stand me it ees ein splendid cryptogram, but vat does it 
mean ? Where you get him ?” 

Thekla explained briefly, but before he had concluded 
Herr Dunderbach’s curiosity had vanished. It had been 
an interesting puzzle, but with the solution came loss of 
interest. The old student went back to his beloved books, 
and the boys hastened from the room with their heads in 
a whirl. 

Wynne could not wait until he had reached their own 
floor. Grasping Thekla's hand as they scurried up their 
stairs, he exclaimed : 

“Isn’t it just wonderful? Think of a leaf telling all 
that. It’s a message, sure pop, and from some one con- 
fined in a — ugh ! — a death valley. He must have written 
it in hopes that it would reach the outer world. But what 
are you going to do about it?” 

“Go down there and search for him,” was the prompt 
reply. 

“What ! Gee-whiz ! what !” 

“I am out of a job,” replied Thekla, speaking rapidly. 
“Your work is slack ; we can get a thousand dollars and 


The Mysterious Cryptogram. 33 

more for the leaf, and we would both like to travel, so why 
shouldn’t we make the trip ?” 

“Thekla Morse, you — you take my breath away. One 
would think, to hear you talk, that it was a journey to 
Harlem, instead of a trip into what may prove to be an 
unexplored region of Venezuela. How would you get 
down there ? Could we go alone into that wild country ?” 

“We could get there easy enough, and as for a com- 
panion, who could be better than Cyclops McGinnis? 
And, by the way, who has a better right ? Didn’t I get the 
bundle from him? We will look up Cyclops McGinnis 
at once.” 

Despite his appearance of easy-going good-nature, 
Thekla Morse was a lad of considerable determination of 
character. When aroused to interest, his dreamy ways 
disappeared as if by magic, and he became alert and en- 
ergetic. 

The finding of the marvelous leaf, with its extraordi- 
nary cryptogram, brought all his latent forces into play. 
To grasp the significance of the wonderful message was 
the work of a moment — to resolve on a plan of action re- 
quired even less time. 

Before Wynne had recovered from his surprise he was 
following Thekla down the street in search of Cyclops. 


34 The Mysterious Cryptogram. 

The old sailor had given his address as No. 34 River 
Street, but the boys found that number over the door of 
an iron foundry. 

“He can’t live here,’’ remarked Wynne. “Are you sure 
he said 34?” 

“I am positive.” 

“Then he must have told you a yarn.” 

“No, there is no mistake. We will ask at that house 
across the street.” 

Their inquiries brought some success. A brawny Irish- 
woman met them at the door. On being respectfully 
questioned, she laughed scornfully. 

“Is it that ould thafe of the worrald yez want ? ’Dade, 
and Oi know him. Said he lived at the foundry, eh? 
Divvil doubt it. It’s a wonder he didn’t give his address 
as the morgue. Ye’ll find him nixt dure, an the top flure. 
He lives wid another rascal loike himsilf.” 

“Gee-whiz ! didn’t he tell you he was married, and 
wanted money to get a doctor for his sick little boy?” 
asked Wynne, as they regained the sidewalk. 

“There must be some mistake,” insisted Thekla, who 
looked rather foolish. “Reserve your decision until you 
hear his side.” 

They climbed four flights of steps, and, groping their 


The Mysterious Cryptogram. 35 

way through the gloom to a door in the rear, were on the 
point of knocking, when a most prodigious hubbub broke 
out on the other side of the partition. A second later the 
door was forced open with a crash, and two men, fighting 
savagely, rolled out at their feet. 


CHAPTER IV. 


CYCLOPS HOISTS HIS TRUE COLORS. 

To Thekla’s surprise, he recognized in one of the com- 
batants the very man he and Wynne were seeking. The 
erstwhile jovial old mariner was rolling about upon the 
hall floor, cursing hoarsely, and making wild slashes at 
his antagonist with his polished hook. 

The meager light filtering through the begrimed win- 
dows hardly sufficed to dispel the gloom, and the lads re- 
treated unobserved to the head of the stairs. 

“Gee- whiz ! what is this, anyway ?” breathlessly queried 
Wynne. 

“A pretty rough scrap, from all appearances,” replied 
Thekla. “It’s Cyclops, too. That’s him with the ruddy 
face and the hook.” 

“I wonder where his poor little sick boy is?” chuckled 
the hunchback. 

The insinuation stirred Thekla to action. Stepping 
forward, he called out, sharply : 

“Mr. McGinnis, are you at home to visitors ?” 

The words had an immediate effect. The combatants 
rolled apart with great agility, and scrambled to their feet. 


Cyclops Hoists His True Colors. 37 

Cyclops deftly released his hook from his antagonist’s 
hair. His rubicund face lost its angry expression, his one 
eye, which had blazed fiercely, softened, and he broke into 
a hoarse chuckle. 

“Death of my peeper! if it ain’t my young friend,” he 
rumbled. “Ho ! ho ! yer arrived jist in time to see me an’ 
my mate taking our daily exercise. Didn’t think we was 
scrappin’, did ye ?” 

Thekla glanced from the speaker to his mate — ^a stock- 
ily-built, middle-aged man, with a pitted face and a pe- 
culiarly malevolent expression, which was still further 
marred by a recent scratch — and laughed. 

“It certainly looks like it,” he replied, dryly. 

“Ho! ho! Appearances is deceiving; eh, Brocky?” 

The fellow so designated nodded sullenly. Cyclops’ 
solitary eye beamed in a friendly manner on the boys. He 
looked from one to the other for a moment, then he waved 
his hook toward the door through which he had so uncere- 
moniously passed a moment before. 

“Come in, lads, come in,” he rumbled. “I’m bloomin’ 
glad ter see yer. Step into my ’umble abode, and make 
yerself welcome.” 

“Is your poor little sick boy in there?” asked Thekla, 
with fine sarcasm. 

His question did not phase the sly old mariner in the 


38 Cyclops Hoists His True Colors. 

least. He shook his head dolefully, and squeezed a tear 
from his eye with the curve of his hook. 

“The sanitary doctors took him an’ the old woman this 
noon,” he said. “They have gone to the horspital, and 
I’m here mourning alone.” 

“You certainly manage to entertain yourself. Mr. Cy- 
clops McGinnis, I am afraid you are inclined to stretch 
the truth a little. I am rather sorry, too, because I came 
here to tell you about a piece of great good luck.” 

Cyclops heaved a deep sigh. He leered reproachfully 
at Thekla, and slowly scratched his head. 

“I see that yer doubt me, youngster. It’s alius been my 
misfortune to be suspected of wrongdoing in this here 
world. Now, yer don’t believe that my little boy is sick ?” 

“You haven’t any little boy,” replied Thekla, impa- 
tiently. “What is the use of continuing this farce?” 

“Brocky Sinn, ain’t I got a wife an’ three bloomin’ 
kids ?” asked the old sailor, with a show of dignity. 

His mate growled something, evidently intended for an 
affirmative. 

“Ain’t one of ’em sick with his lungs, an’ didn’t he go 
to the horspital this morning ?” 

Brocky nodded. He was Evidently a man of few words. 

“Now, sir,” exclaimed Cyclops, triumphantly waving 
his hook, “what more proof do yer want?” 


Cyclops Hoists His True Colors. 39 

The boys were compelled to laugh. There was such 
an air of spontaneous good nature about Cyclops that it 
was impossible to remain angry with him. 

“Your proof could be stronger, but we will let it go at 
that,” said Thekla. “Can we have a moment’s conversa- 
tion with you?” 

The old sailor ducked his head in evident delight. He 
led the way into his room, and dexterously swept a sus- 
picious black bottle and a pack of greasy cards from a 
table occupying the center. 

Thekla’s quick eye caught sight of them, however, and 
he shrewdly guessed that they had furnished grounds for 
the rough-and-tumble fight recently witnessed. 

Brocky clumsily drew forward a couple of battered 
chairs, and the boys seated themselves. Cyclops’ face 
radiated good nature. His solitary eye roamed from one 
to the other, and he genially stroked his chin with the ever- 
present hook. 

“Yer said somethin’ about a piece of good luck,” he 
said, suggestively. 

“Yes, about the greatest man ever experienced,” replied 
Thekla. “You remember that bundle of sarsaparilla you 
— er — sold to me for a dollar and a half?” 

The old sailor nodded his head rather sheepishly. 


40 Cyclops Hoists His True Colors. 

“Well, I told you it was worth forty or fifty cents, 
didn’t I?” 

Another nod. 

“I made a mistake. It was worth considerably more 
than that.” 

Cyclops straightened up, and an expression of greed, 
flashed into his solitary eye for a second. He asked, 
eagerly : 

“Did yer git more’n a dollar for it?” 

“No, but I found something in the bundle that will prob- 
ably sell for a thousand dollars,” replied the young bota- 
nist, quietly. 

Crash ! Over went the table. Cyclops leaped into the 
air, then his steel hook shot out, deftly catching Thekla 
by the arm. 

“Death of my eye ! Ye don’t mean it ?” he roared. “Ye 
found somethin’ in my bundle worth a thousand dollars? 
What was it? Where is the jool?” 

“Keep cool, and I will tell you all about it. In the first 
place, however, I must remind you that the bundle of sar- 
saparilla, with all its contents, is my property.” 

“But I didn’t give yer no jools,” hoarsely exclaimed the 
old sailor. 

“There weren’t any jewels in it.” 

“But yer said ” 


Cyclops Hoists His True Colors. 41 

'‘That I found something worth more than a thousand 
dollars. And here it is.” 

Thekla carefully produced a small metal box. Opening 
it, he drew forth an object wrapped in many folds of soft 
tissue paper. As he removed these, layer by layer, 
Cyclops and Brocky Sinn leaned over him like two evil 
vultures over coveted prey. 

An exclamation of bitter disappointment came from the 
former. “Blast it ! it’s only a bloomin’ old leaf. It’s jok- 
ing yer are, lad.” 

“Not at all,” was the calm reply. “This bloomin’ leaf, 
as you call it, is really worth what I said.” 

He explained to his gaping auditors the history of the 
‘plant of gold,’ then he read Herr Dunderbach’s transla- 
tion of the wonderful cryptogram. Wynne, who was lis- 
tening in silence, on the opposite side of the overturned 
table, saw Cyclops and Brocky furtively exchange glances. 

When Thekla concluded, the former brought his sound 
hand down upon his thigh with a mighty slap. 

“Marvelous ! marvelous !” he roared. “I’ve been roam- 
ing over land and sea nigh onto forty years, and this here 
is the queerest thing I ever struck. A blooming message 
written on a leaf worth a thousand dollars. Jes’ think of 
it ! But this here valley of death, lad ; does the plant what 
grows there mean gold ?” 


42 Cyclops Hoists His True Colors. 

“Any amount of it.’’ 

“Hooray !” 

“Gold ! mountains of gold,” croaked Brocky Sinn. 

“Yes, an’ some poor fellow kept prisoner, too. No 
doubt, he’ll give us a quit-claim to a fortune if we rescue 
him. Youngster, what be yer going to do ?” 

“Search for him,” Thekla replied, tersely. 

Cyclops’ steel hook gently caressed the lad’s hand. 

“That’s the bloomin’ ticket, my boy. An’ yer’ll take 
poor old Cyclops?” he said, in a wheedling voice. “The 
bundle of sarsaparilla is yours, I acknowledge. But yer 
mustn’t forgit yer owes yer good fortune to me. An’ 
I know the country, too. Ain’t I been there? Can I go 
with yer, lad ?” 

“What about your wife and three children?” 

“Blast ! that is, they — er — they can stay at the horspital 
for a while, then go home to her maw. Never fear, they 
will git along all right.” 

Thekla laughed. 

“We came here to ask you to go. It is my intention to 
sell the leaf at once to a collector I know. I feel certain 
I can have the money by to-morrow noon. Now, how 
can we get down there ?” 

Cyclops was all animation. He chuckled uproariously, 
and executed a nimble jig in the center of the room. 


Cyclops Hoists His True Colors. 


43 


“How kin we* go, lad ? Ho ! ho ! you leave that to me. 
IVe got a dandy scheme. See my friend, Brocky Sinn? 
Brocky is the owner an’ master of as tight a little schooner 
as ever sailed the seas. She’s laid up now, but we kin git 
her ready for sea in three days. You git the rhino, and 
we’ll attend to the rest.” 

“Wouldn’t it be cheaper to take a steamer to La Guayra, 
and strike inland from there?” asked Thekla, doubtfully. 

“Not by a jugful. In fact, it couldn’t be did. This 
here valley of death must be somewhere among the moun- 
tains bordering Brazil. I’ve hearn tell of a wild country 
up there. And remember, I found the bundle on the bank 
of the Mazaruni River, and it flows into another stream 
what joins the ocean at Georgetown, British Guiana.” 

“Then our best plan ” 

“Is to take Brocky ’s schooner to Georgetown, and as- 
cend the rivers.” 

“All right, it’s a go,” replied the lad, rising to his feet. 
“Come, Wynne. We will call to-morrow noon, to see 
how you have progressed.” 

Cyclops saw the two lads to the stairs, then he rejoined 
his mate. His solitary eye gleamed with suppressed ex- 
citement. Dragging the black bottle from its hiding place, 
he took a deep draught. 


44 Cyclops Hoists His True Colors. 


“Brocky Sinn,” he exclaimed, solemnly, “luck is run- 
ning our way. Them blessed lambs have strayed into the 
right fold. Ho! ho! If they don’t lose their blooming 
wool before we are through with them. I’ll eat that 
schooner of yours, anchors an’ all.” 


CHAPTER V. 


THE VANISHING OF THE CRYPTOGRAM. 

“Thekla Morse, you haven’t asked my opinion yet, but 
I am going to give it to you, anyway,” announced Wynne 
Teeters, as he shuffled down the street, after leaving the 
dingy abode of the old sailor. 

Thekla awoke from a characteristic reverie, and glanced 
at him in surprise. 

“What’s up now, chum?” he asked. 

“I don’t like the way things are going.” 

“What do you mean ?” 

“Why, about this man Cyclops, and his measly-looking 
mate. I am afraid they are not the best people in the 
world. In the first place, Cyclops deliberately deceived 
you about his supposed family, and then he buncoed — 
yes, that’s the word — he buncoed you out of a dollar and 
fifty cents.” 

“But, my dear Wynne ” 

“Wait until I finish. He gave you a false address, and 
when we finally run him to earth., we find him engaged in 
a disgraceful row. Now, is it wise to go off down there 
with such persons ?” 


46 The Vanishing of the Cryptogram. 

Thekla looked troubled for a moment, then his face 
brightened. 

“I think you make too much of a small matter, Wynne,^’ 
he replied, cheerily. “Cyclops is all right. He may be a 
little careless, but I think he is honest. His face proves 
that. Did you ever see a more open, frank countenance? 

^He fairly beams good nature.’" 

The little hunchback shook his head doubtfully. 

“Appearances are deceiving sometimes.” 

“We must not forget one thing. In my opinion, Cy- 
clops has a moral right to accompany us. Didn’t we get 
the leaf from hirn 
♦ “Yes, but ” 

“He didn’t give us the leaf, remember. He told me I 
could have the bundle of sarsaparilla. I don’t know how 
the law would regard it, but really, I think the old fellow 
should share with us.” 

Wynne shambled on in silence, but the expression upon 
his face indicated that he was still unconvinced. 

On reaching home Thekla immediately prepared for his 
visit to the collector of botanical curiosities. He removed 
the precious specimen from its box, and examined it 
critically. 

“I say, Wynne,” he called out, “I believe I’ll clean it up 


The Vanishing of the Cryptogram. 47 

a bit. The long exposure has withered it somewhat, and 
that may detract from its value.’’ 

“Take care that you don’t ruin it,” cautioned the hunch- 
back from his desk. 

“Never fear. I know a chemical bath that will make 
the leaf as fresh as the day it was plucked from the parent 
plant. Gosh ! I hate to part with it, though.” 

He bustled about, and soon had the leaf immersed in a 
soup plate filled with his “treatment.” He watched the 
clock carefully, and at the proper time proclaimed the 
operation completed. After drying the moist specimen, 
he placed it under his magnifying-glass. A second later 
he called out in amazement : 

“Great Scott ! the cryptogram has disappeared !” 

Wynne ran to his side, and gaped at the renovated leaf. 
Thekla had spoken truly. The queer-shaped characters 
were no longer visible. The powerful chemical had com- 
pletely eradicated them. 

At first the boys eyed each other in consternation, then 
the young botanist gave a sigh of relief. 

“Great Scott! I thought we had lost it. But it does 
not matter, after all. We have the photograph and trans- 
lation, you know.” 

“That’s right.” 

“It is the best thing that could have happened,” con- 


48 The Vanishing of the Cryptogram. 

tinned Thekla. “We must sell the leaf to raise the needed 
money, but we clean forgot that the purchaser might have 
had the cryptogram translated. Then it’s a hundred 
chances to one that he would have eitl^er organized an ex- 
pedition himself, or made the matter public.” 

Wynne rubbed his hands briskly, and chuckled in his 
dry way. 

“Luck is following us, old fellow. I consider it a nar- 
row escape. What if the secret had been solved by some 
one else? Why, expeditions would have swarmed into 
that Valley of Death.” 

“Now the firm of Teeters, Morse & McGinnis, dealers 
in cryptograms and mysterious valleys, have everything 
their own way,” smiled Thekla, as he tenderly restored 
the leaf to its box. 

He presently started uptown to dispose of his prize. 
Wynne attempted to resume his usual work at the con- 
signment of valentines, but the divine muse failed him, 
and he abandoned the effort. 

“I ain’t fit to write a line,” he murmured, leaving his 
desk. “The idea of my trying to rhyme ‘hoist her’ with 
‘oyster.’ Huh !” 

He took down his violin, and played softly while his 
thoughts drifted away to the tangled glades and desolate 


The Vanishing of the Cryptogram. 49 

reaches of Venezuela. Thus Thekla found him when he 
returned. 

The latter’s face bore an expression of calm satisfaction. 
Without speaking, he removed his hat and outer coat, and 
then quietly heaped the table with greenbacks of different 
denominations. 

The sight of such a quantity of money was too much 
for the little hunchback. He dropped his violin, and 
danced about in high glee. His eyes opened to their 
widest extent, and he gingerly fingered a handful of 
twenty-dollar bills as if undecided as to their reality. 

“Gee- whiz ! I’ve never felt so rich in all my born days,” 
he chuckled. “How much is it, chum ?” 

“Twelve hundred dollars. The old skinflint offered me 
a thousand at first, but I soon convinced him there were 
other collectors in New York. You should have seen his 
face when I produced the leaf. Ha ! ha !” 

“Gee-whiz ! twelve hundred dollars. Why, it’s a for- 
tune.” 

“No, a drop in the bucket to what we’ll have when we 
return. If we aren’t millionaires before next Christmas, 
that leaf is a fraud. Get supper ready ; I’m as hungry as 
a catamount in winter time.” 

Wynne gaped at him in amazem.ent. 

“You surely can’t eat now?” 


50 The Vanishing of the Cryptogram. 

“Why not r 

“With all that money lying around ? Why, it has taken 
my appetite away.” 

Thekla laughed. Sweeping the bills into a heap, he 
carelessly stuffed them into his pockets. 

“Put on the coffee, and pare the potatoes,” he said. “Pll 
run down and get some things. We can afford to spread 
ourselves to-night. How does a nice juicy tenderloin 
steak strike you?” 

“I tell you I can't eat, but — er — if you insist, I would 
like a real good piece of meat. Bull hide is getting mo- 
notonous. And while you are about it, take the little 
pitcher and get some cream. Yum ! yum ! think of cream 
instead of condensed milk.” 

Thekla laughingly disappeared in search of the coveted 
delicacies. That night the boys tasted the first fruits of 
their good fortune. Cyclops McGinnis’ find in far Ven- 
ezuela was bearing a harvest. Would the next crop be 
as beneficial to Thekla and Wynne? Time alone could 
tell. 


CHAPTER VI. 


THE PLOT IN THE DARK. 

The boys arose bright and early next morning, despite 
the fact that sleep had not visited their eyes until the wee 
sma’ hours. Both were in jubilant spirits. The vista of 
adventures opened up before them by the discovery of the 
wonderful cryptogram was amply sufficient to banish all 
sober thoughts. 

Wynne tuned up his beloved violin, and sang cheery 
snatches of verse, while Thekla prepared breakfast. The 
latter kept up a running commentary of remarks concern- 
ing the land they were to visit. 

“While on my way back from the collector’s last night, 
I called in at Cooper Union Library,” he said, as he deftly 
fried half a dozen eggs. “I got a book on Venezuela, and 
read things that just tickled me to death. 

“Talk of fun and travel and adventures — we’ll have 
loads of them down there. Oh, I wish we were due in 
Georgetown to-morrow! I made several extracts from 
the book for your benefit. Just listen to this.” 

He dropped an eggshell in the coffee pot, then read 
from a scrap of paper : 


52 


Tlie Plot in the Dark, 


^Among the curious sights seen by travelers upon the 
interior rivers of Venezuela is this : As the evening conies 
on, the banks grow misty and the woods lose their shape 
in the lowering shadows. Here and there glades open up, 
permitting a brief glimpse into the distance. One will 
find himself looking down a twilight vista at a company 
of tall gray phantoms dancing in a ring.’ ” 

“Phantoms !” echoed Wynne, with an involuntary shud- 
der. “That writer must be talking about the Valley of 
Death. Ugh!” 

“ ‘Phantoms they seem to be,’ ” continued Thekla, with 
a chuckle, “ ‘but the phenomenon is caused by tossing 
branches of banana trees which are covered with broad 
leaves, silvery-gray on the under side. They flitter and 
gleam in the wind upon the slightest provocation. ” 

“Huh! I thought there wasn’t anything supernatural 
about it.” 

“But you looked scared, all the same. Here’s another 
description that will give you a faint idea of what we can 
expect : ‘The banks of the rivers are generally a dense, un- 
broken tangle of mangroves, palms, bananas and lianas. 
It was up one of these that Sir Walter Raleigh came in 
his last desperate search for El Dorado, the land of gold. 
Plis son caught a calenture, or native fever, in the pestilent 
swamps, and was buried on the shore — no one knows quite 


The Plot in the Dark. 


53 

where. Even his bones must have been sucked up and de- 
voured by the fierce, voracious vegetation.’ ” 

'‘Wow! let’s drop that and eat breakfast,” exclaimed 
Wynne. 

“Just one more description. ‘The wilderness is as sav- 
age and unbroken as it was in Raleigh’s time, three hun- 
dred years ago. Not a foot of it has been opened. The 
only clearings are a few square rods (sometimes fifty 
miles apart), cut away by the Indians for fishing stations. 

“ ‘There they thatch over a few poles with palm leaves, 
swing their hammocks, and when they are tired of fish 
diet, strike inland, abandoning their clearing to the swift 
obliteration of the tropic forest. The woods are filled with 
game, both harmless and savage. Venomous snakes 
abound, and land and water swarm with strange crawling 
things difficult to classify.’ ” 

“That’s a cheerful picture — I don’t think,” commented 
the little hunchback. “I guess a fellow will have to wear 
steel armor and carry a Gatling gun down there.” 

“It is not so bad as that,” laughed Thekla, as he vigor- 
ously attacked the breakfast, “but the outlook certainly 
promises no end of adventures. And just think of the 
botanical prizes I can get down there. Whole forests of 
trees and plants, and thousands of little-known bulbs and 
roots.” 


54 


The Plot in the Dark. 


“Yes, and millions of bugs, and snakes, and mosquitoes, 
and things,” mimicked his companion. “Oh, it will be 
out of sight, no doubt.” 

An hour later the boys were knocking at Cyclops’ door. 
The old sailor was evidently expecting them. He was 
dressed for the street, and looked the ancient salt in his 
pilot-cloth suit and tarry so’wester. His hook was as 
much in evidence as ever, and he flourished it genially as 
he welcomed his young visitors. 

“On time, I see,” he said. “That’s right, my boys. 
Nothin’ like promptness, as the shark said as he nipped 
the slow swimmer’s leg of¥ close to his neck. How did 
you make out with that blooming leaf? Did ye git the 
rhino?” 

Thekla flashed a thick roll of greenbacks, the outside of 
which was a hundred-dollar bill. Cyclops’ one eye greed- 
ily gleamed, and he made an involuntary motion with his 
hook. 

“How much did ye git?” he asked, hoarsely. 

“Twelve hundred. It is enough, if we are careful.” 

“We’ll be that, lad ; we’ll be that. My mate, Brocky 
Sinn, is over in the basin now a-gittin’ his craft ready. 
We’ll run across, and take a peep at her. The Sinbad is 
a tidy schooner, and she’ll carry us to them foreign shores 
as well as a liner.” 


The Plot in the Dark. 


55 

Both Thekla and Wynne thought the praises rather ex- 
travagant when they saw Captain Brocky’s craft. The 
Sinhad was a weather-beaten schooner of not more than 
one hundred tons burden. 

The sides were unpainted, and streaked with rust; the 
bulwarks broken in places, as if by the giant hand of 
Father Neptune ; the two masts were badly stayed, and a 
general air of neglect and desolation pervaded the whole 
fabric. 

“Gee-whiz ! I don’t think much of that boat,’^ whispered 
Wynne, as they surveyed it from the pier. 

“Nor do I,” replied Thekla, doubtfully. “But we are 
not good judges in such matters, you know. Probably 
she is simply in need of repairs.” 

“Now, isn’t that a beauty?” rumbled Cyclops, waving 
his hook toward the Sinhad. “Look at them lines. Cast 
yer eyes along the cutwater. There’s grace for yer, and 
speed, too. I’ll bet my eye agin’ a bottle o’ gin that she 
kin outsail any hooker in this harbor. Come aboard; 
there’s Cap’ain Brocky a-waitin’ for us.” 

A closer inspection did not lessen the boys’ doubtful 
opinion. The Sinhad was as disreputable inside as out. 
The cabin was dirty and stuffy. Strange smells came 
from the bilges. The decks gaped with uncalked seams, 
and an incipient fire had charred the sides of the galley. 


56 


The Plot in the Dark. 


Captain Brocky received them with a sullen nod. After 
a word with Cyclops, he began overhauling the rigging 
with the aid of two forecastle sailors, as villainous-looking 
as himself. 

“We kin sail in forty-eight hours,” said Cyclops, cheer- 
ily. “The skipper an’ his crew’ll have things ship-shape 
by that time. All we’ve got ter do is to lay in stores.” 

“Where is the crew ?” asked Thekla. 

“Them’s them. Them two men with Brocky.” 

“Is that enough? I thought it required at least ten 
men.” 

“Not on a hooker of this size, lad. A cap’ain, two or 
three seamen, an’ a couple of boys is enough. Now, 
there’s Brocky an’ me, them two men, an’ you lads. What 
more d’ye want? A big crew costs money. What with 
their wages, an’ the grub they eat, it ’ud take the shine out 
of a lot of dollars. You said we would have ter be keer- 
ful, an’ I’m trying ter obey orders. Come along, an’ I’ll 
show yer the ship.” 

He led the way forward, lauding the different parts of 
the craft in extravagant terms. Halting by the open 
main hatch, he pointed downward, and said : 

“Take a peep inter that, will yer? Did yer ever see a 
finer bottom ? Look at them — hold hard !” 

In his curiosity Wynne had approached too near the 


The Plot in the Dark. 


57 

slippery edge of the coamings. As he leaned over to 
glance downward, he stumbled, and fell headlong through 
the opening. 

As quick as a flash, Cyclops thrust out his left arm. 
The steel hook at the end of it caught the little hunch- 
back by the collar of his stanch pea-jacket. The old 
sailor’s sturdy figure bent far over with the strain, he wa- 
vered a second, then slowly straightened up, dragging 
V/ynne back to the deck. Thekla sprang to his assistance, 
and both were soon in a place of safety. 

^‘Gee-whiz!” gasped Wynne, his face blanched to the 
color of paper. “Gee-whiz ! I — I came pretty near fall- 
ing down there, didn’t I ?” 

“That yer did, youngster,” replied Cyclops, wiping the 
perspiration from his forehead. “It was a blooming nar- 
row escape. If my Betsy — that’s the hook — hadn’t caught 
yer, them bones of yourn might have suffered.” 

“I’m awfully obliged to you, sir. I owe ” 

“Belay them thanks. I’m alius glad ter help a mate. 
Say no more about it — and keep away from open hatches.” 

It was some time before Wynne regained confidence. 
During the balance of his stay on board the Sinhad, he 
gave the hatchways a wide berth. That afternoon a tour 
was made of the ship chandlers, and stores laid in for 
twenty days. 


58 The Plot in the Dark. 

The following morning the boys moved on board, and 
took up their quarters in the dingy cabin. Shortly before 
the hour of sailing the next afternoon, Thekla made a 
hurried trip to New York, returning with sundry queer- 
shaped bundles. Calling Wynne into their little state- 
room, he gave him a serviceable-looking revolver. 

“I came near forgetting these,'’ he said, quietly. “They 
are handy things to have at times, you know. Cyclops 
said we could buy our outfits in Georgetown, British 
Guiana, but I concluded to get these here." 

“!• guess you don’t like the looks of Captain Brocky 
Sinn and his men,’’ said his companion, in a low voice. 

“They are certainly not angels in appearance,’’ was the 
terse reply. 

At that moment Cyclops’ husky voice bade them come 
on deck to see the schooner leave the pier. By nightfall, 
the Narrows was left astern, and the voyage to the mystic 
shores of Venezuela began. 

For three days both Thekla and Wynne fought that re- 
morseless enemy of all new voyagers — seasickness; then 
they began to enjoy the salty breeziness of the sea, and 
the delights of sailing. 

Everything went merrily until the sixth day out. 
That night, after eight bells (midnight), Wynne crept on 
deck for a breath of fresh air. The night was very dark, 


The Plot in the Dark. 


59 

and the schooner seemed surrounded by an opaque wall 
of gloom. 

There was but little sea on, but the Sinbad pitched heav- 
ily under the impulse of an invisible swell. Wynne 
stepped a few paces from the companionway, and sniffed 
gratefully at the salty air. 

Strange noises came to his ears — noises born of the sea 
and its mysteries. From aloft came a weary complaining 
of rusty blocks. The tense rigging sent forth sounds not 
unlike the murmur of a gentle surf. An occasional snap- 
ping of strained backstays mingled with the sharper re- 
ports from flapping leaches. 

Alongside and under the heaving counter, a dull rum- 
bling of water indicated a tidy bit of steerage way. From 
somewhere aft a low murmur of voices proclaimed the 
presence of the captain and a companion. 

Wynne was on the point of approaching them when 
the sounds became louder. He heard Thekla’s name men- 
tioned, then in Cylops’ unmistakable tones came the 
words : 

“Don’t ye think weVe waited long enough, mate?” 

A hoarse croaking, which might have meant either 
“yes,” or “no,” followed. 

“It’s six long an’ weary days since we left New York, 


6o 


The Plot in the Dark. 


an’ them kids is still aboard eating us out of pocket. Ho ! 
ho! it’s time they fed the fishes.” 

The little hunchback pricked up his ears. Whom could 
they mean? 

‘Tt’ll only take a few blessed moments, Brocky. They’re 
sound asleep, an’ they won’t know what’s struck ’em 
ontil they touch bottom, if there’s any blooming bottom 
out here. I understand Thekla has over seven hundred 
dollars left of the boodle. Ho ! ho ! what a spree we kin 
have in Georgetown with that. Then we’ll look for ther 
gold valley, and make our fortunes. Call the men, an’ 
git ready to do the business.” 

Sick with horror, Wynne staggered back against the 
companionway. With the vividness of the lightning’s 
stroke, the truth flashed over him. Cyclops and Brocky 
were plotting their murder. 

An inarticulate cry of terror came from his lips, and he 
crept down the cabin ladder. As he vanished through 
the opening, two shadowy forms glided up, and stared 
after him. 


CHAPTER VII. 


CYCLOPS IS CRAFTY. 

Wynne scrambled down the companionway steps as if 
he already felt the cold steel of a murderous knife, or 
the searing pain of a bullet. 

Bursting into the little stateroom jointly occupied by 
Thekla and himself, he grasped his chum by the arm, and 
fairly dragged him from the bunk. 

“Wh — what in the deuce is the matter ?” stammered the 
half-awakened lad, staring at him in bewilderment. 

"‘Quick ! get your revolvers,’' breathlessly replied 
Wynne. “They are going to murder ” 

A heavy step sounded upon the deck just overhead, and 
the hunchback made haste to slam the door and bolt it. 
A dim light from the cabin lamp filtered through the scroll 
work at the top of the partition, and by its aid the young 
botanist saw that his companion was ghastly pale and 
trembling in every limb. 

Now thoroughly aroused, he slipped on his outer cloth- 
ing, and hastily examined his revolver. 

“For goodness’ sake, explain yourself, Wynne!” he 
exclaimed, impatiently. “What has happened?” 


62 Cyclops is Crafty. 

— I went on deck a few moments ago, and — and I 
heard Cyclops tell Captain Brocky Sinn that the — ^the time 
had arrived to kill — kill us.” 

“Nonsense.” 

“It isn’t; it’s the gospel truth. Cyclops said that you 
— ^you had seven hundred dollars left, and that they 
could have a grand spree with — with it, after throwing 
us into the — the sea. I heard him tell the captain to call 
the men, then I scooted down here. They’ll come in a 
minute. Oh, what will we do ?” 

“You must have been dreaming, chum,” insisted Thekla, 
still incredulous. “You are certainly mistaken.” 

“No, no ! I tell you I heard it all. They intend to 
murder us, the cold-hearted villains. Where is my re- 
volver? We must beat them off.” 

Wynne’s terror was so manifest that his companion’s 
incredulity began to waver. During the voyage down the 
coast, the lad had had ample opportunity to study Captain 
Sinn, and his crew, and he was compelled to acknowledge 
to himself that a more scoundrelly lot of men could not 
be found anywhere if appearances counted for anything. 

His faith in Cyclops McGinnis was still strong, how- 
ever, and to him the hearty old sailor was bluff honesty 
itself. But there was no gainsaying Wynne’s belief in 
his discovery. Perhaps there was a plot on foot, after all. 


Cyclops is Crafty. 63 

Thekla’s white teeth closed with a determined snap, and 
he boldly unbolted the door. 

“Don’t do that,” expostulated his companion. “They 
are coming; don’t you hear them?” 

There was a shuffling noise at the head of the com- 
<^^ariion stairs, then a door was opened, allowing a gust of 
wii.'^ to enter the cabin. Suddenly the schooner gave a 
lurch, stronger gust followed, and the lamp swinging 
over the stationary table went out. 

A low cry came from Wynne. 

“Sh-h ! stop that,” cautioned Thekla. “Get your weapon 
ready, but don’t make a noise.” 

“You are not going on deck ?” 

“No. We will wait here, and see what turns up. I do 
no believe they will attack us, chum. Allowing that you 
are right in your suspicions, it strikes me they will hesi- 
tate before running against our revolvers.” 

The words were brave, but the lad felt extremely un- 
easy. He was quick to grasp situations, and he knew 
full well that if a plot to get rid of them had really been 
concocted the case was grave in the extreme. 

They were out on the wide Atlantic, cooped up within 
the wooden walls of a small schooner, and practically at 
the mercy of their shipmates. They were two to four — 


64 Cyclops is Crafty. 

two lads to four brawny men. If left to a physical strug- 
gle, only one result could follow. 

"We have our revolvers, thank goodness muttered 
Thekla, as he gratefully clasped his weapon, "‘and that 
evens it up a little.'^ 

He made a movement to leave the stateroom. 

""You are not going to face them, are you?’" asked 
Wynne, in evident terror. 

“No. I simply wanted the door open in case they make 
a rush down the steps.’' 

Considerably relieved, the little hunchback crept to his 
friend’s side. The shuffling noise at the head of the com- 
panion stairs had ceased, and presently a hoarse creaking 
and complaining of blocks indicated that the watch was 
swinging the booms. 

After a while Thekla became impatient. Bidding 
Wynne remain in the stateroom, he ventured forth into the 
main portion of the cabin. 

The darkness was intense, and he carefully groped his 
way to the foot of the steps. There he paused, and lis- 
tened with bated breath. 

From under the counter came a dismal gurgling of 
waters like the choking whine of a drowning animal. The 
joints of the cabin woodwork grated harshly as the Sin- 
bad lurched on her course. A low sobbing came from 


Cyclops is Crafty. 


65 


the waves running alongside ; from aloft, a wavering leach 
sent out abrupt snaps and under the lad’s feet a loose cask 
rolled back and forth, with thumps of remonstrance. 

Suddenly a heavy step fell upon the top of the com- 
panion ladder, and some person began to descend slowly. 
Thekla rejoined Wynne, and the two lads prepared them- 
selves for the struggle. 

“Don’t fire until they really attack us,” cautioned the 
former, in a whisper. “Then be sure, and make every 
bullet ” 

A hoarse voice interrupted him — a voice husky with 
many years of exposure to the salty winds of the ocean, 
and an undue application to bad rum. 

“We fought ’em long and we fought ’em hard, 

Load up, my boys, the cannon bold. 

We raked their decks both aft and for’rd, 

And we did it all for Spanish gold. 

“So sing ye, lads, of the days so free 
When Morgan’s band, it sailed the sea. 

Fill up and drink to the merry time 
When Morgan sailed the sea.” 

There was a brief pause, and then the voice broke out 
with a curse. 

“Death of my peeper ! where’s the blooming light? It’s 
darker down here than a nigger’s gizzard.” 

“It’s Cyclops,” whispered Thekla. “Slip out of sight.” 


66 Cyclops is Crafty. 

There was a scratching sound, then a tiny light flashed 
up. The boys peeped out from their place of concealment, 
and saw the old sailor’s rugged face in the center of a faint 
circle of illumination. His one eye roved furiously from 
side to side for a second, then he reached up, and re- 
lighted the cabin lamp. 

“Blast me, if I don’t wish we was in port,” they heard 
him growl. “This here two-hour watch goes agin’ my 
love of ease, as the crab said as he dodged the net. Well, 
I guess I’ll turn in for a snooze.” 

He removed his coat, doubled it up into the form of a 
pillow, and lurched to a broad settee extending across one 
end of the cabin. He had barely settled himself when a 
series of rumbling snores came from that direction. 
Thekla turned to Wynne with a chuckle. 

“Where are your gory assassins, chum? Does that 
look as if we were to walk the plank ?” 

The hunchback stared at Cyclops’ recumbent figure in 
perplexity. He was absolutely certain he had overheard 
the old sailor plot to murder them. 

“Gee-whiz ! I don’t know what to make of it,” he reluc- 
tantly confessed. “I am grateful to Cyclops for saving 
my life in New York, but I am bound to say that I be- 


Cyclops is Crafty. 67 

lieve he means us harm now. It was his voice I heard on 
deck, and I’ll bet anything.” 

“It must have been a dream. You said he told Brocky 
Sinn to call the men. Now, if they intended to do any- 
thing, why don’t they commence? No, you ate too much 
supper, and you have been riding the night horse. I’m 
going back to bed.” 

Thekla returned to his bunk, but Wynne remained on 
guard near the door. He was far from being convinced, 
and he maintained a sleepless vigil until the first gray 
streaks of dawn crept through the begrimed skylight. 

Cyclops was called two hours after his appearance in 
the cabin, and Captain Brocky Sinn took his place upon 
the settee. 

Thekla awoke shortly after daylight, and enjoyed an- 
other laugh at poor Wynne’s expense. The latter ad- 
mitted that appearances were against him, but he kept a 
careful watch during the rest of the voyage to George- 
town. 

On several occasions he observed a peculiarly malevo- 
lent expression in Cyclops’ solitary eye, and he also noticed 
that the old sailor and his mate were not as cordial in their 
treatment of him as formerly. 

“I guess they found out some way that I overheard 


68 Cyclops is Crafty. 

them talking/’ concluded the lad. 'They knew we were 
armed, and the cowards thought it unhealthy to tackle us.” 

Be that as it may, nothing further occurred to disturb 
the monotony of the voyage. In due time, the Sinbad — 
which was not a clipper by any means — dropped anchor 
in the harbor of Georgetown, British Guiana. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


THEKLA SCENTS TROUBLE. 

As the lumbering old weather-beaten schooner swung 
to her cable off the city the boys cast eager glances of de- 
lightful anticipations at the pretty settlement, with its col- 
lection of white stone houses, embowered in luxuriant 
clusters of palms. 

An hour later they were ashore, bent on a tour of sight- 
seeing. Cyclops remained behind to assist in preparing 
the Sinhad for a lengthy stay. 

At a consultation held the day before port was reached, 
it had been decided that Captain Brocky Sinn "should sell 
his ancient craft if a purchaser could be found. If not, 
he was to moor her in the harbor, in charge of a caretaker. 

^‘Yer know that me an’ you two lads’ll make a mighty 
small party to be cruising around them savage parts in 
the interior,” the old sailor had said ; “so, why wouldn’t it 
be a good idea to take Brocky and his crew along? The 
only extry expense’ll be their grub, and when we git up 
the river, we’ll have that for the taking, anyway. If we 
find the gold valley, we kin afford to give ’em a few 
sheers.” 


70 


Thekla Scents Trouble. 


Thekla readily assented, but Wynne was not at all 
pleased with the proposed arrangement. The memory of 
that blood-curdling conversation overheard by him was 
still too vivid. 

He had never accepted Thekla’s offhand theory that it 
was a dream, and his watch over Cyclops and his mates 
continued unabated. He was accustomed to rely upon 
his chum in most things, so he refrained from raising an 
objection. 

After landing at one of the docks, the boys strolled 
down Water Street, the main business thoroughfare of the 
town. Everything was new and strange to them. In- 
stead of the palatial structures, the lofty office buildings, 
the magnificent trading marts, and the row upon row of 
glittering signs, they saw modest shops, one story in 
height, and constructed mainly of wood. 

There were no rushing cable cars, no clangor of brazen 
gongs, no lines of trucks and carriages, and bewildering 
processions of eager pedestrians crowding one another. 
Instead, they found occasional carts drawn by patient 
mules, and here and there a bullock team guided by bare- 
footed natives in scant attire. 

There was evidence of excitement, however, and it did 
not take the boys many minutes to see that something un- 
usual was in the air. They observed knots of men near 


Thekla Scents Trouble. 


71 

the street corners, evidently discussing some important 
topic. Business was apparently at a standstill, and the 
shops were empty. 

“What in the name of goodness can be up?” remarked 
Thekla. “Something must have happened recently.” 

“Let’s ask,” suggested Wynne. 

The young botanist accosted a man clad in the inevitable 
white linen and pitch sun-helmet, and asked, politely : 

“Would you be kind enough to tell us if anything 
unusual has occurred? We noticed the excitement, 
and ” 

“Just landed, eh?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“From the States?” 

Thekla nodded. 

“I thought you were a Yankee ; you look like it. You 
fellows up there are going to get yourselves into hot water 
with your confounded interference. If you think we will 
stand ” 

A loud uproar suddenly came from a nearby corner, and 
the man darted away without completing his remarkable 
sentence. Thekla and Wynne stared at each other in 
amazement. 

“Is he crazy?” exclaimed the latter. 

“He certainly acts peculiar. One would think he had a 


Thekla Scents Trouble. 


72 

grudge against us. Listen to the shouting over there. 
Let’s see what it all means.” 

They hastily joined the throng, and found that it was 
surrounding a newspaper bulletin board. Displayed in 
large black letters was the following: 

‘‘unwarranted interference — THE VENEZUELAN 
QUESTION REVIVED A JINGO MESSAGE — PRESI- 

DENT CLEVELAND DEFIES ENGLAND! 

“Washington, D. C. — 2.30 P. M. — President Cleve- 
land has just sent a special message to Congress calling 
the attention of that body to the alleged violation of the 
Monroe Doctrine by Great Britain in her treatment of the 
Venezuelan boundary question. He threatens armed in- 
terference if the dispute is not settled by arbitration,” 
etc., etc. 

The boys had barely finished reading the first few para- 
graphs of the startling bulletin when an assistant from the 
newspaper office appeared with an extra. As he posted 
it up, a rousing cheer came from the vast crowd. 

“That’s the spirit ! Old England forever !” shouted a 
stentorian-lunged individual. 

The, last announcement was brief, but pregnant with 
meaning. It read : 

“London, i P. M. — The Times officially states that a 
cabinet meeting has been called to take action on President 


Thekla Scents Trouble. 


73 


Cleveland's remarkable message. Orders have been sent 
to the various naval dockyards to work day and night 
upon the uncompleted battleships.” 

'‘Gee- whiz ! let’s get away to some quiet place, and talk 
this over,” whispered Wynne, excitedly. “Cricky! these 
fellows are mad.” 

“There isn’t any occasion,” replied Thekla, rather scorn- 
fully. “This kind of bluster and talk does not cut any 
figure. They ” 

“Down with the Yankees !” yelled a burly citizen, close 
to the boys. 

The mob took up the cry, and pandemonium reigned 
until an important individual with the air of a third-rate 
politician, mounted a barrel, and dre\y the crowd’s atten- 
tion. 

He began a violent speech in favor of the immediate an- 
nihilation of the whole American nation. Thekla listened 
impatiently for a moment, then he quietly edged toward 
the speaker, closely followed by Wynne. 

Watching his chances, he managed to stumble against 
the barrel, and the self-appointed orator suddenly disap- 
peared under the feet of his audience. 

“Served him right,” chuckled Wynne, as the two boys 
retired to a more secluded spot. “He can continue his 


74 


Thekla Scents Trouble. 


argument on his own level. Do you think there really 
will be a war between England and the United States 

“Not much. Both sides are too sensible for that. But 
I am afraid this trouble about Venezuela will affect us in 
another manner.'^ 

“HowT 

Thekla led the way into a coffee house, and selected a 
table close to a broad window opening upon the street. A 
cool breeze came through the rear from the bay, bringing 
a scent of the sea. A droning of insects sounded from a 
clump of bushes in a little side yard. The place was quiet, 
and entirely deserted. 

A waiter hurried in, and after serving them, returned 
to the thronged street. A hoarse cheer indicated the ar- 
rival of another cablegram. Thekla laughed, grimly. 

“All this will be over by the end of the week,” he said. 
“That is, here in Georgetown. But it will last longer up 
country, and that means trouble for us. You heard, be- 
fore we left New York, that the long dispute between the 
Venezuelans and the colonists of British Guiana had cul- 
minated in an attack by the former upon the frontier 
police ?” 

“Yes.” 

“We have got to pass through that very territory. We 
are Americans, and the colonial authorities will regard us 


Thekla Scents Trouble. 


75 

with suspicion. Confound it ! I hope we won’t be 
stopped.” 

“I hope so, too. Isn’t it a queer thing? Wherever 
you find trouble, gold is the cause of it.” 

“That’s so. If the precious metal had never been dis- 
covered along the border of this country, the world would 
have continued in blissful ignorance of the Schomburch 
line, or the whole territory of Uruanan. Gold is the cause 
of all the trouble in this vale of tears, anyway.” 

“I guess it is responsible for our being down here, any- 
way,” said Wynne, slyly. “For the sake of gold, we’ll 
go through swamps, and brave snakes and wild beasts, 
and sleep out of doors, instead of under a decent roof, and 
eat strange things we don’t like, instead of good beef- 
steak, and fried potatoes, and pie.” 

Thekla laughed. 

“Kicking already, eh? I thought you were glad to 
come ?” 

“So I was, and I’m glad I’m down here. I was just 
showing how the greed of gold has affected us.” 

“It is not altogether that, chum. It is also a desire to 
rescue the writer of that mysterious cryptogram. And, 
please God, we’ll do it!” 

The boys were silent for a while, then Wynne asked 
for further information as to the effect the war excite- 


76 


Thekla Scents Trouble. 


ment would have upon their trip. While he was speak- 
ing, a burly, red-faced man, clad in nautical garb, came 
sauntering along the sidewalk. 

Wynne’s voice, carried out on the cool breeze, reached 
his ears, and he abruptly halted behind an oleander bush. 

“Them boys in there,” he muttered, in a husky whisper. 
“Blast my peeper if I don’t listen a bit. P’r’aps they’ll 
give me a p’int or two.” 

Steadying himself with his steel hook, Cyclops — for it 
was that redoubtable mariner — leaned forward, and lis- 
^ned intently. 

“It is this way, chum,” explained Thekla. “Where 
there is a lot of excitement, there is bound to be more or 
less suspicion. We must pass through the Cayuni basin, 
where the gold fields are located, and we are liable to ar- 
rest as spies. We can’t say we are bound into the interior 
in search of a valley of gold, for that would bring a swarm 
of prospectors after us. The colonial police will, no 
doubt, try to stop us if we attempt to pass on into Ven- 
ezuela.” 

At that juncture Cyclops straightened himself with a 
jerk. His round, weather-beaten face assumed an ex- 
pression of crafty triumph, and he wriggled his hook as if 
highly pleased. The next moment he tramped noisily 


Thekla Scents Trouble. 


77 

upon the sidewalk, and sauntered past the door of the 

coffee house, singing, hoarsely : 

“We fought 'em long and we fought ’em hard. 

Fill up, my boys, the cannon bold. 

An’ we raked their decks ” 

^‘Hi, there, Cyclops,” called out Thekla; “come in; 
we’ve got news for you.” 

“Why, blast my peeper, boys, is it you?” rumbled the 
old sailor, strolling in. “Enj’ying yerselves, eh? That’s 
right ; make the best o’ this world while yer can, as the 
shark said to the nigger before he bit his head off. Ye 
said something about news — what is it?” 


CHAPTER IX. 


I N DEADLY PERIL. 

Thekla explained, briefly, the intelligence received by 
cable, and concluded with his conjecture that the excite- 
ment might interfere with their journey. 

“Don’t yer worry about that,” replied Cyclops, with a 
snort of contempt. “Them people ain’t got the gizzard to 
face me an’ Brocky, not mentioning the crew. No, make 
yer mind easy, lad. If them colonial police tackle us. I’ll 
show ’em a thing or two.” 

He flourished his formidable hook so menacingly that 
Wynne instinctively dodged. 

“We will have to pass through the disturbed territory, 
of course,” said Thekla. 

“Yep. Here’s a map I got from a feller downtown. 
Ye see, the Mazaruni River runs from them mountains in 
the southeastern corner of Venezuela to the River Esse- 
quibo. Now, where I found that blooming bundle is 
right here.” 

He placed the point of his hook upon a spot probably 
fifty miles from the mouth of the Mazaruni. Thekla ex- 
amined the map curiously, and saw that the territory 


In Deadly Peril. 


79 


through which they were to pass was marked “partially 
explored/' Beyond the mountains mentioned by Cyclops 
stretched a vast tract of land made up of mountains and 
valleys and dense forests. Somewhere in that region lay 
their destination — the Valley of Death. 

“The bundle of sarsaparilla must have drifted down 
with the current from the head-waters of the Mazaruni,” 
he said, suggestively. 

“I reckon. Our only plan is ter take a steamer here, 
and go to the last stopping place, and then continue by 
boats. We’ll have ter buy a couple of yawls before we 
leave Georgetown. Now, lads, if ye are through with yer 
coffee, we’ll look around for an outfit. Brocky has a man 
aboard dickering for the Sinhad, an’ he’ll probably sell 
ther old hooker to-day.” 

The booking office of the river steamboat line was vis- 
ited, and tickets for five purchased for a steamer leaving 
the following day. Then the little party dropped in a 
general outfitting store on the main street. Cyclops se- 
lected two canoe-shaped boats of moderate size. 

A quantity of canned goods, a medicine chest, ham- 
mocks, a few cooking utensils and other necessary articles 
were bought, and sent to the steamer wharf. Thekla es- 
pied two serviceable tents, neatly packed for transporta- 


8o In Deadly Peril. 

tion. He inquired the price, but Cyclops eyed them 
doubtfully. 

“D’ye really think we’ll need them things?” he asked. 
“Ain’t we hearty enough to sleep in ther open air?” 

“I understand the dew in the interior is as heavy as rain 
at times,” replied the lad, “and it means a fever down here 
to get wet at night.” 

“Death of my peeper! who’s afeerd of a fever? I’ve 
been shipmates with the plague and yellow jack scores of 
times, and I’m living yet. If you take them things it’ll 
mean more weight ter carry, an’ we’ve got enough for 
three men an’ two boys now.” 

But Thekla insisted, and made the purchase despite 
Cyclops’ arguments. As the lad found in good time, the 
hand of fate must have directed him in that hour. 

The simple buying of the two tents was destined to 
change the after results of the whole expedition. 

It was night before everything was packed and deliv- 
ered. Cyclops elected to return on board the Sinhad, but 
the boys had had enough of the cramped cabin. They 
stopped at a modest hotel, but there was little sleep for 
them that night. 

The excitement created by the news from Washington 
continued unabated until morning. Parades traversed the 


In Deadly Peril. 8i 

main streets, and mass meetings were held in all the public 
squares. 

“If this does not mean trouble for us, I am greatly mis- 
taken,” remarked Thekla, as he watched a passing mob 
from the window of their room. “We will be extremely 
fortunate if we succeed in crossing the Venezuelan border 
unmolested. This little trip of ours certainly promises 
adventures.” 

He would have spoken with even greater conviction if 
he had been given an opportunity to peep into the stuffy 
cabin of the Sinhad at that moment. Seated on each side 
of the center table were “honest” old Cyclops and his un- 
savory mate, Brocky Sinn. Before them were a couple 
of rum bottles, and the map the old sailor had shown to 
Thekla that day. 

Cyclops stared at it with his solitary eye for a while, 
then he brought his steel hook down upon the table with 
a crash that sent the bottles dancing. 

“We’ll do it, mate, as sure as the Sinbad is rotten,” he 
exclaimed. “Them kids have got the best of us this far, 
but their bones’ll be left in this here country yet.” 

Captain Brocky Sinn nodded approvingly, and tossed 
off a generous dram. He was a man of few words. 

“We’ll try that boat racket first, an’ if that fails, we’ll 
make a play with the ‘spy’ scheme,” continued Cyclops. 


82 


In Deadly Peril. 


f 


‘‘Then ho! for ther valley of gold. Brocky, yer think 
yer rich because ye sold this hooker for nine hundred dol- 
lars. Huh 1 it ain’t a drop in the ocean. This here cruise, 
is bound to land us among the millionaires. Think o’ 
keeping yer own keerage, an’ eating off real chiny plates I 
No more salt horse ’n’ rotten duff. No more trampin’ the 
decks o’ nights. Hurray! 

“Bold Morgan fought an’ fed his crew 
On blood an’ gold an’ spoils so fiee. 

An’ that’s the life for me an’ you, 

An’ that’s the life for you an’ me.” 

All through the long night the precious twain schemed 
and plotted against Thekla and Wynne. When daylight 
came, Cyclops, the arch villain, doused his head with a 
bucket of cold water, and set out for the hotel. 

The day was spent in perfecting arrangements, and 
just before dark, the whole party embarked upon a rickety, 
unpainted stern-wheel steamer called the River Pride. 
The start was made in due time, and by morning the an- 
cient craft was plowing the muddy waters of the Maza- 
runi. 

When the boys left their stateroom they found them- 
selves in a wilderness of luxuriant vegetation. Thekla 
was in ecstasies, and he fain would have landed a score of 
times. After a brief halt at several small towns, the River 


In Deadly Peril. 83 

Pride reached its destination, some seventy miles from the 
Essequibo River. 

Here Cyclops had expected to find one of the peculiar 
native sailing craft plying the different streams, but there 
were none in port. It was ascertained that one was load- 
ing at a place some thirty miles farther up, so it was de- 
cided to make the trip with the two small boats. 

They were accordingly placed in the water, and loaded 
with the camping outfits. By the old sailor’s advice, 
Thekla and Wynne embarked in the smaller one, with a 
few light articles, while the remainder of the party occu- 
pied the other. 

“Ye’ll find it more agreeable in there by yerselves,” said 
Cyclops, with a good-natured chuckle. “I’m thinking 
ye’ll be wanting to land now and ag’in to git some o’ them 
plants an’ flowers.” 

“You are right,” gratefully replied the young botanist. 
“That is exactly what I will do. Wynne and I can man- 
age this boat all right.” 

The start was made amid the shouts of the villagers, 
and the momentous expedition entered upon the second 
state of its journey. Wynne, who was very powerful, 
despite his deformity, worked the oars, while Thekla sat 
in the stern, and feasted his eyes upon the wonderful pan- 
orama of tropic vegetation spread out before him. 


/ 


84 In Deadly Peril. 

Progress was slow, and when the noon hour arrived the 
boys were willing to rest. A fire was lighted, and dinner 
prepared in a beautiful glade, rich with strange perfumes. 

Shortly after the journey was resumed the river flowed 
through a long, leafy tunnel. For fully a mile, great trees 
arched their limbs over the stream. The air was deli- 
ciously cool, and the strong tropic light softened into a 
grateful gloom. 

As they rowed along, Thekla recognized vast forests of 
valuable timber — greenheart, caoutchouc, balata and mag- 
nificent palms. There were crab trees of sturdy growth, 
silk cottons one hundred feet in height, picturesque cab- 
bage palms, sago, mangroves, and banana trees. Oranges 
and limes, guava, pineapple, cassava and other plants 
lined the banks. Great, gorgeous flowers were every- 
where; winged insects filled the air with a monotonous 
drone; butterflies bearing all the colors of the rainbow 
fluttered about the voyagers’ heads, and in the misty dis- 
tance could be seen flitting monkeys and lurking animals 
of more savage nature. 

On leaving the leafy tunnel, the two boats ran into the 
midst of a number of alligators sunning themselves upon 
floating logs. There were at least three score of the rep- 
tiles, some of monstrous size and bulk. They lazily eyed 
the intruders for a moment, then slipped into the water. 


In Deadly Peril. 85 

‘Dand at that p’int, and we’ll have a shot at the brutes/’ 
called out Cyclops, flourishing his hook. 

Nothing loath, Thekla and Wynne promptly obeyed. 
Captain Brocky steered the other boat alongside, and the 
whole party stepped ashore. The two boys eagerly loaded 
their rifles, and waited expectantly for the reappearance 
of the caymen. 

While their attention was thus occupied, Cyclops made a 
furtive signal to one of the sailors, a rough, evil-faced 
Irishman named Toole. The latter slipped into the small 
boat, and felt under the middle seat, then he nimbly sprang 
back to the bank. 

A few minutes passed without the alligators revealing 
themselves, and finally Cyclops remarked that the journey 
must be resumed without further loss of time. 

‘‘Them critters has as much sense as some men,” he 
chuckled. “They are a- watching us from the bottom 
somewhere. When we go, they’ll come out, but not be- 
fore.” 

He led the way to the larger boat, and embarked with 
Captain Brocky and the sailors. They rowed out into the 
middle of the river, and the boys regretfully followed in 
the other craft. A moment later a sharp cry came from 
Wynne, who had taken the oars : 

“Gee-whiz ! we are leaking !” 


86 


In Deadly Peril. 


Thekla glanced down, and saw a rapidly-increasing pool 
of water in the bottom of the boat. Near the middle seat 
a faint bubbling indicated that the drain hole was open. 

He felt around under the water with his hands, only to 
find that the plug was gone. Straightening up, he saw 
the other boat disappearing behind a nearby point of land. 

In the meantime Wynne had turned the bow in toward 
the bank. He plied the oars with all his strength, but the 
rapidly-filling shell sank deeper and deeper. 

'‘Heavens ! we’ll go down among the alligators,” ex- 
claimed the young botanist, hoarsely. 

He shouted for help, but only a chorus of mocking 
echoes came in reply. There was a sudden upheaval of 
the water within a dozen feet of the doomed boat, and the 
yawning mouth of an enormous cayman appeared. A 
second later another head was thrust into view, and then a 
third. 

Frantic with despair and terror, Wynne dropped the 
oars, and covered his face with his hands. Thekla cast 
one hopeless look around, then he sprang to his chum’s 
side, just as the frail boat plunged under the surface of 
the river ! 


CHAPTER X. 


QUEBRACHO. 

As the boat sank from beneath their feet, the boys 
grasped the oars with a last desperate desire to sell their 
lives as dearly as possible. Both were excellent swim- 
mers, and if it had not been for the proximity of the fero- 
cious alligators, they could have reached the bank with- 
out trouble. 

A shrill cry of terror came from Wynne when their frail 
support disappeared. He splashed wildly toward Thekla 
just as a round, scaly head, dripping with slime and mois- 
ture, rose to the surface within arm’s length. 

Treading water, Thekla aimed a blow at the monster 
with his oar, but the ashen blade shivered into splinters 
without apparently the slightest effect. Completely be- 
side himself, Wynne made a frenzied dash and actually 
grasped the reptile by the end of his horny, overhanging 
lip. 

Somewhat astonished by the peculiar attack, the alli- 
gator backed away, only to give place to others. Now 
fully a score surrounded the boys. All chance of reaching 
the bank was cut off. 


88 Quebracho. 

^'We are doomed, chum,’’ gasped the hunchback. 
'‘Good-by — goo 

He suddenly disappeared under the surface, with the 
uncompleted farewell trembling upon his lips. Frantic 
with despair, Thekla dived after him, and succeeded in 
dragging him back, just as several of the alligators made 
a simultaneous dash toward the boys. 

Just then a shrill shout came from the bank — a shot 
rang out, then a canoe darted from under a mass of vines 
trailing from a huge decayed log. One of the reptiles 
threshed about with its powerful tail, then disappeared, 
leaving a ruddy tinge dyeing the surface. 

Thekla, supporting the limp form of his companion, 
saw that help was at hand. With rare presence of mind, 
he splashed the water with his disengaged arm. Bewil- 
dered with the commotion, and balked of their prey, the 
alligators vanished. 

A moment later the canoe reached the boys. The soli- 
tary occupant — evidently a native Indian — dragged them 
into the craft, and hastily returned to the bank. 

Thekla helped to place Wynne upon a bed of leaves, 
then he threw up both hands and fell prostrate at the feet 
of their rescuer. 

His swoon was of short duration. When he recovered 
he found the Indian bending over him, laving his face with 


Quebracho. 89 

water from the river. Struggling to his feet, he looked 
for Wynne. 

The little hunchback was sitting up. His countenance 
bore an expression of mingled terror and bewilderment. 
On seeing Thekla he gave a cry of joy. 

'‘Thank God you are safe !” he exclaimed, brokenly. 

"We are all right, chum,’" was the young botanist’s 
cheery reply. "It was a narrow escape, but, thanks to 
this gentleman, we are still alive.” 

He turned and frankly extended his hand to the native, 
who accepted it rather timidly. The stranger was a man 
of powerful physique, and seemed to be in the prime of 
life. He was almost a giant in stature, and the brawny 
muscles of his arms and back — he was clad only in a 
breech cloth — stood out in shapely knots. 

His face was dark, but the features bore the imprint of 
intelligence. His eyes were clear and piercing, and he 
looked to the lads the personification of primitive noble- 
ness. 

"I thank you, sir,” said Thekla, simply. "You have 
saved us from a horrible death, and we are indeed 
grateful.” 

He unthinkingly spoke in English. He had some 
knowledge of the Spanish language — a mere smattering 
of conventional words and phrases — but not enough for 


90 Quebracho. 

an extended conversation. He was glad, therefore, when 
the reply came in his own tongue, if somewhat broken. 

“Me do nothing,” responded the native, courteously. 
“Quebracho glad he come now, that’s all.” 

“And so are we,” spoke up Wynne, fervently. “If you 
hadn’t been in the vicinity we would have furnished a din- 
ner — ugh ! — to those brutes.” 

“I see other boat — where it go?” asked Quebracho, 
curiously. 

“It disappeared beyond that bend,” replied Thekla. 
“And, by the way, they must have missed us by this time. 
They should be returning ” 

His words were suddenly cut short by the whip-like re- 
port of a rifle, then a volley rang out, and the branch of a 
tree directly over their heads snapped and fell to the 
ground. 

As quick as a flash the native grasped both boys by the 
arms. With scarcely an eflPort, he forced them backward. 
Wynne started to utter a cry, but he found himself sprawl- 
ing behind the trunk of a decayed tree before the sound 
left his lips. 

“Down !” grated Quebracho. “Some one shoot.” 

Completely bewildered, Thekla and his companion 
obeyed the order. The former felt for the hilt of his re- 
volver, but the damp touch of the case speedily recalled to 


Quebraclio. 91 

him the fact that it had been temporarily rendered useless 
by its bath in the river. 

“Are we attacked by Indians ?” he asked, breathlessly. 

“No ; them white men’s guns,” was the startling reply. 
“Quebracho know sound.” 

“White men ? Why, who could it be ?” 

“Cyclops and his mates,” blurted out Wynne. “I’ll bet 
anything they have tried to kill us.” 

“Impossible !” indignantly replied Thekla. “Why 
should they ” 

“Sh-h !” interrupted the native. “You stay here ; I go 
see.” 

He wriggled away like a snake, leaving the boys still 
arguing the question. 

“You should not be so free with your suspicions,” said 
Thekla, warmly. “Simply because you had a nightmare 
on board the Sinhad, in which you thought Cyclops and 
the crew were plotting our murder — ridiculous idea — you 
must needs accuse them of trying to assassinate us now.” 

“I believe they fired those shots, and you’ll find out that 
I am right,” retorted Wynne, doggedly. 

“But what could be their object? You don’t think they 
would kill us for the fun of the thing, do you ?” 

“No ; but they would for the gold we expect to find in 
the Valley of Mystery.” 


^2 Quebracho. 

“Nonsense. They surely know there is bound to be 
enough for 

“I doubt it in their case. They are not the class of men 
to consider other people. Mark my words, that old bailor, 
with his one eye and the hook, is a villain.” 

“You have forgotten he saved your life the day before 
we left New York.” 

The little hunchback winced. 

“I haven’t forgotten it,” he replied, Softly, “but, Thekla^ 
I can’t help my convictions. I am grateful to him, and 
you know it, but ” 

A dry twig snapped close at hand, then the dense brush 
parted and the native crept into view. His face wore an 
expression of disappointment. 

“I no find them,” he said, in a low voice. “I look over 
river, but no see boat or nothing. They may hide now, 
like US'.” 

“Where did the shots come from?” asked Thekla. “I 
confess I was so startled I did not see.” 

Quebracho pointed across to where a mass of foliage 
draped the bank of the river just below the bend. A troop 
of chattering monkeys swung from the wiry limbs of sev- 
eral greenheart trees. A solitary buzzard soared in the 
air far overhead, but in the vicinity of the spot indicated 
by the native there were no signs of animal life. 


Quebraclio. 93 

Thekla was shrewd enough to see that this fact was 
significant. 

“It looks as if the would-be assassins are still there,” 
he said. 

Quebracho nodded assent. 

“Come, we go look other way,” he said. “No stand 
up ; do like this.” 

He dropped to his hands and knees, and crawled 
through the rank vegetation so swiftly that he was out of 
sight before the boys had fairly started. The novel mode 
of locomotion was hardly to their liking. 

Wynne thrust his head into a thorny bush, and received 
sundry painful scratches before he had proceeded two 
yards. Thekla was more fortunate, but he would have 
preferred walking. They heard a low laugh in front, and 
Quebracho’s face appeared between an interlacing branch 
and the trunk of a palm. 

“You no like this way?” he queried. “You go little 
while, then we walk.” 

“I am deuced glad to hear it,” replied the little hunch- 
back. “I’ve just bruised my knee, but I am game for a 
mile, if need be.” 

Thekla noticed that their new friend was leading them 
away from the river, and he shrewdly guessed that Que- 


94 Quebraciio. 

bracho wished to place a respectable distance between 
them and the stream before skirting it. 

His conjecture was correct. A moment later the native 
arose to his feet and started off at right angles. He carried 
a keen-edged machete, or long-bladed knife, with which 
he cut a path as he proceeded. 

After traveling probably five hundred yards, he re- 
turned to the bank of the river. They had barely sighted 
the muddy current when the sound of somebody forcing 
himself through the brush came to their ears. 

Quebracho hastily forced the boys behind a clump of 
cabbage palms, then he leveled his gun. It was a modern 
rifle of apparently American make, and the barrel gleamed 
ominously in the afternoon sun. 

Where they had stopped was on the edge of a little 
clearing recently swept by fire. It was inclosed in a 
tangle of trees and luxuriant undergrowth. A bird of 
gorgeous plumage rested upon an overhead limb, and 
peeping above the shelter of a little knoll were three or 
four ground animals strange to the boys. 

The crackling noise increased, and presently a bush 
bright with scarlet buds was rudely dashed aside and a 
burly man, with a round, red face and one eye, staggered 
into the clearing. * It did not need the polished steel hook 
to identify the newcomer. 




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Quebraclio. 


95 


It was Cyclops McGinnis. 

Thekla and Wynne saw at a glance that something un- 
toward had happened. The old sailor’s clothing was al- 
most torn from his body. His hat was gone, and across 
one cheek ran a blood-red scratch. He was panting 
hoarsely, and his every action indicated that he was a 
fugitive. 


CHAPTER XL 


CYCLOPS^ STORY. 

The glint of the gun barrel caught Cyclops’ eye, and 
he abruptly halted. 

'‘Don’t shoot, don’t shoot,” he called out, hoarsely. “I 
surrender.” 

Thekla forced his way into the clearing, and advanced, 
with his hands extended. 

“Do not be alarmed ; it is we,” he exclaiined. “What is 
the matter? What has happened?” 

Cyclops gave a shout of joy. Bounding forward, he 
caught the young botanist’s arm with his hook, and held 
him at arm’s length. 

“Blast my one peeper ! is it indeed you, lad ?” he roared. 
“Death of life! I am gee-whizzled with joy. An’ ye’re 
alive, after all ? I thought them alligators had done eaten 
you. Where’s my little friend, the queer one ?” 

Wynne stepped out with Quebracho. The latter eyed 
the old sailor curiously for a moment, then he leaned 
against the trunk of a palm, and awaited developments. 

Cyclops greeted the little hunchback effusively, but 


Cyclops’ Story. 97 

Wynne did not display much enthusiasm. He shook the 
proffered hand in silence. 

‘‘What under the sun has happened?” asked Thekla. 
“Where is Brocky Sinn?” 

The old sailor sighed mournfully, and pointed to his 
tattered clothing. 

“I have a story to tell ye, lad, that’ll kill all confidence 
in yer fellowmen. I’ve sailed the briny for nigh onto 
forty years, and I’ve met ingratitood in all climes, but the 
actions of my once bosom mate, Brocky Sinn, has capped 
the climax.” 

“What did he do?” 

“He tried to kill me,” replied Cyclops, huskily. “He 
turned on me like a wiper, and with them two sailors — 
mates I’ve befriended more’n once — he attempted t6 do 
me up. See this cut?’* 

“Yes.” 

‘Well, that’s the mark of his knife. It was this way: 
Arter we pulled away from the bank where you wanted to 
shoot them ’gators, we rowed around a bend in the river. 
Bimeby I glanced back to see if you was cornin’, an’ just' 
then I heard a screech.’’ 

“It was I.” 

“I thought so, an’ I knew somethin’ was up. I told 


98 Cyclops’ Story. 

the men to turn the boat, but Brocky swore a mighty oath, 
and said he wasn’t going back for nobody.” 

^‘The villain !” 

‘‘Yes, that’s him. I roared mutiny, an’ they all pitched 
on me. Brocky, he said he wasn’t going back for you 
kids, an’ he hopes as how the boat would sink an’ pitch ye 
to the ’gators. I couldn’t stand that, so we had it hot an’ 
heavy. I managed to git ther craft to ther bank, then I 
scooted, because they was coming too warm for me. And 
here I am.” 

“They fired at us from the brush, the miserable assas- 
sins,” exclaimed Thekla. 

“Yes, I was running through these blamed woods when 
I heard the shots. Who is the nigger?” 

“Sh-h ! He is our preserver. He rescued us from the 
caymen when our boat went down. His name is Que- 
bracho, but that is all I know about him.” 

Cyclops approached the native, who still stood watching 
them in silence. Extending his hand, the old sailor said, 
heartily : 

“I want ter thank ye for rescuing my young friends. 
They are like two, sons to me, and by yer brave act ye’ve 
made me yer mate for life.” 

Quebracho bowed, and quietly shook hands. 

“Now, mates,” said Cyclops, briskly, “we’ve got ter 


Cyclops’ Story. 


99 


make tracks back ter the last landing place of the River 
Pride and look for more boats. Brocky and his men are 
scooting up the river as fast as they can by this time, an^ 
we must make haste to catch them.’' 

“We can’t do it by going the other way,” spoke up 
Wynne. 

The old sailor’s solitary eye contracted. 

“Nor can we walk fast through this here forest,” he 
said, dryly. “I understand it gits thicker the farther we 
git into the interior. No, our best plan is to secure an- 
other boat.” 

“Where you go?” suddenly asked the native, addressing 
Thekla. 

“We are bound toward the headwaters of this river,” 
replied the lad, evasively. 

“You look for gold?” 

“Yes.” 

“Then why you go that way ? Gold mines over there.” 

He pointed to the northeast, and added : 

“Plenty white men go by here for gold mines, but they 
mistake. Best way is by other river below. I show you 
way.” 

“It isn’t the regular gold fields we wish to reach,” ex- 
plained Thekla, “but a valley hundreds of miles from here. 
We must ascend this river.” 

LofC. j,:'' 


100 


Cyclops’ Story. 


Quebracho leaned forward, and asked, eagerly : ^ 

“You say valley? What you know about valley of 
gold?” 

The young botanist glanced at his questioner in sur- 
prise. There was something in his manner which seemed 
to indicate suppressed excitement. Was it possible he 
had heard of that mysterious place whence had come the 
wonderful cryptogram ? ' ^ 

Thekla was shrewd beyond his years. He was a stu- 
dent of nature by instinct, and he had felt fully satisfied 
that the native was a man to be trusted the moment he 
saw his face. 

During the long voyage from New York the lad had 
thought over the details of their strange quest time and 
again. Together with Wynne, he had weighed each pro 
and con. All their debates and arguments had ended with 
one hope — that a trustworthy guide could be obtained. 

Their wildest fancy had not reached as far as the pos- 
sible acquisition of a native actually acquainted with the 
locality of the valley itself, but Quebracho’s peculiar ac- 
tions and question kindled a flame of hope in Thekla’s 
breast. He was on the point of replying, when Cyclops 
interposed. 

It w2Lf^ evident the wily old sailor had grasped the hid- 


lOI 


Cyclops’ Story. 

den meaning of the Indian’s question. His solitary eye 
half closed, and he said, in a voice husky with excitement : 

'‘Ye mentioned the valley of gold, didn’t yer? What 
d’ye know about it ? Did ye ever hear tell of a place away 
in the mountains where a flower which bears a plant 
th’ color of gold grows? Quick! don’t keep a man 
waiting.” 

Quebracho folded his arms and looked Cyclops full in 
the face for a moment. His air of intense eagerness van- 
ished as if by magic, and he again became the imper- 
turbable native. Presently he turned to Thekla, and said, 
with a shrug of his powerful shoulders : 

“I know nothing what this man says. Plenty valleys 
up in big mountains. Maybe gold there, too.” 

Was it a mistake, or had the speaker made an almost 
imperceptible sign with his right hand? The young bot- 
anist’s heart bounded with hope. He felt assured that 
Quebracho was really in possession of facts of the great- 
est value to them. That he distrusted Cyclops, and would 
not speak in his presence, was plainly evident. 

“I’ll question him as soon as I get a chance,” he mur- 
mured. He added, aloud : 

“We are in search of a certain place in the interior 
where gold can be found in abundance. Quebracho. It’s 
hundreds of miles from here, and I guess you have never 


102 Cyclops’ Story. 

been there. Now, what had we better do ? It will be a 
shame to permit those scoundrels to escape with our camp- 
ing outfits.'’ 

“If we only had a good boat we could follow them,” 
spoke up Wynne. 

“I got canoe, but him too small for all,” said the native. 
“We need guns, too. Them bad men, and they shoot 
quick.” 

He paused, then added, hastily : 

‘T know what to do. We get men from my village. It 
over there one hour from river. Get dozen men and guns 
and more canoes. We catch them before night. Come.” 

The proposition met with immediate favor from all save 
the old sailor. He held back, and hoarsely whispered to 
Thekla that it was a trick of the “nigger” to murder them. 

“I know these here people better’n you do,” he added, 
impressively. “They are as treacherous as a Digger In- 
dian. Don’t ye trust him, lad, don’t ye do it.” 

“I am sure you are mistaken about Quebracho,” replied 
Thekla, warmly. “Why would he go to the trouble of 
rescuing us from the alligators only to murder us after- 
ward? No, you are wrong. Come, now; don’t waste 
any more time. Every minute is precious.” 

“You kin take the risk if ye want to,” replied Cyclops, 
doggedly, “but I’m blamed if I will. I’ll bide here.” 


Cyclops’ Story. ic^ 

Quebracho had left the little clearing to secure his 
canoe. Wynne watched the argument in silence. Thekla 
made no further attempt to persuade the old sailor, but 
quietly embarked with his chum when the native returned 
with his boat. 

Cyclops watched them cross the broad stretch of river 
until they vanished beyond a turn in the bank, then he 
raised his steel hook and shook it after them vindictively. 

“I’ll git ye yet, ye dogs,” he muttered. “Luck has been 
on yer side this far, but my time is coming. Ye’ll never 
finger an ounce of that gold if I lose my life in preventing 
ye. There’s only enough for one person, and that’s Cy- 
clops McGinnis. Now ter warn Brocky of the new 
danger.” 

He glared about the little clearing for a moment to get 
his bearings, then he launched boldly into the dense jungle 
bordering the Mazaruni. 


CHAPTER XIL 


THE CRY FROM THE JUNGLE. 

Quebracho sent his light canoe across the stream with 
a dozen powerful strokes of his paddle, then he skillfully 
steered the craft into a narrow channel, whose mouth was 
almost hidden by a luxuriant growth of vegetation. 

'This go up to village,” he said, laconically. 

"What was the matter with Cyclops ?” asked Wynne. 

"He decided to remain in that clearing and wait for us,” 
replied Thekla. 

"Him bad man,” spoke up the Indian, quietly. "Me see 
him kind along the coast. Me no like him.” 

The little hunchback cast a triumphant glance at his 
chum. 

•m.'' 

"You see, I am not alone in my unfavorable opinion of 
your honest old friend,” he said. "Some day you will 
learn his true character.” 

"He certainly does act peculiar at times,” conceded the 
young botanist. "It is hard for me to believe, though, 
that he is not all right. You have been down to the coast. 
Quebracho ?” 

"Yes ; me visit Georgetown many times. I learn Eng- 


The Cry from the Jungle. 105 

lish there. I go as guide to Englishmen looking for gold 
fields.’’ 

The words recalled to Thekla the Indian’s unwarranted 
excitement when mention was made of the Valley of Mys- 
tery. He resolved to ascertain if the man knew aught of 
the place. 

‘‘Quebracho, we owe our lives to you,” he began, quietly. 
“If it had not been for your timely aid, we would have 
been devoured alive by the caymen. I believe you are 
friendly to us, and I am going to tell you why we are 
down here.” 

Quebracho forced the canoe onward through the cool, 
still water with practiced strokes of his paddle. His 
dusky face was turned away from the lads, who were 
crouching in the stern, but Thekla knew that his words 
had not fallen upon unheeding ears. 

The little stream wound its tortuous way through the 
moist jungle like a huge snake stretched out in death. 
Overhead, the branches of lofty trees interlaced. Chat- 
tering parrots fluttered about through the foliage. Here 
and there gray-bearded apes peered curiously at the in- 
truders, and once the boys caught sight of a sleek, tawny 
animal crouching behind the friendly shelter of a'^i^sa 
bush. 

“Several weeks ago,” continued Thekla, “I found a pe- 


io6 Tlie Cry from the Jungle. 

culiar leaf in a bundle of sarsaparilla roots. Upon the 
leaf were some characters telling of a valley in the interior 
of Venezuela. It said that the ‘plant of gold’ grew there, 
and that quantities of the precious metal could be found. 
The message came from some one confined against his 
will, and ” 

The paddle dropped from Quebracho’s hand with a 
splash. Quickly recovering it, the Indian turned to the 
boys. His eyes gleamed with excitement, and his breath 
came in short, quick gasps. Holding up one hand, Re 
said, impressively: 

. “If you no want to die, you no go any farther in search 
of that valley. I like you. You are good boys. I have 
heard of that Valley of Death. My father he see it once. 
He die soon after. It home of terrible people, and you no 
live one day if you get in there.” 

“Gee- whiz !” exclaimed Wynne, half rising to his feet. 
“I — I don’t think we ought to go, after all, chum.” 

“You say your father has seen the valley?” asked 
Thekla, eagerly. “Where is it. Quebracho ?” 

The Indian resumed his paddling without replying. 
Stirred by unwonted emotion, he plied the wooden blade 
with all his strength. The canoe shot past partially-sub- 
merged trees, threaded miniature eddies, and finally 


The Cry from the Jungle. 107 

emerged into a long reach, at the end of which there was a 
clearing containing a score of rude native huts. 

“Quebracho, please tell me all you know about it,” 
pleaded Thekla. “We haven’t a thing to guide us, and 
we will not turn back. This valley, whatever it may con- 
tain, has been visited before. The man who wrote that 
message is educated, and I firmly believe he is some ex- 
plorer held in the place against his will. I am determined 
to rescue him, if it is in my power. You can help me; 
won’t you do it ?” 

“You take bad sailor with steel hand ?” 

“Not if he turns out to be what you and Wynne thinks 
he is.” 

“Then you two boys go alone?” 

“Yes.” 

The Indian shook his head. 

“You never get there,” he said, emphatically. “Jungle 
got plenty of wild animals and snakes. You no get food ; 
you starve. You catch fever like all white men, and you 
die. No ; go back to coast.” 

“I will not,” replied Thekla, resolutely. “If you will 
not help us, we’ll try it alone; eh, Wynne?” 

The little hunchback nodded his head with the air of a 
determined martyr. If the end of the journey was the 


io8 The Cry from the Jungle. 

fiery pit itself he would have cheerfully accompanied his 
friend. 

‘^Quebracho/’ suddenly exclaimed the young botanist. 

“Yesr 

“Are you afraid of the jungle?” 

The Indian laughed. 

“It my home,” he said, simply, 

“What will you take to guide us to the valley?” con- 
tinued Thekla, in a matter-of-fact voice. 

Quebracho whirled around, and gave the lad a startled 
glance. 

“Me guide you? Me go to valley? Not for every- 
thing Englishman got. No, no, no ! My father go there 
one time. He come back old man. His face all cut, his 
eyes gone, his fingers gone, and his hair white like the 
brayeri leaf. No, no !” 

Wynne shuddered. 

“Who treated him like that ?” he asked. 

“He no tell. He just moan, and moan, then die.” 

A number of the natives flocked from the collection of 
huts and lined the bank of the little stream. All — young 
and old — set up a shrill shouting, to which Quebracho re- 
plied with a peculiar call. 

A dozen stalwart fellows piled into several canoes, and 
paddled out to meet their evident leader. After the ex- 


The Cry from the Jungle. IC9 

change of a few guttural words, the canoes were turned 
about, and the little flotilla speeded toward the mouth. 

The newcomers were armed with the inevitable ma- 
chete, three or four carrying, in addition, long, slender 
blow-pipes, with which the native Venezuelans are so 
expert. 

“They use poisoned darts,’’ explained Thekla, in a low 
voice. “If they ever get within reach of Brocky Sinn and 
his men it will be bad for the scoundrels.” 

A landing was made where Cyclops had elected to await 
their return. Thekla and Wynne sprang ashore and 
searched the little clearing, but no sign of the old sailor 
could be found. 

Both boys shouted his name at the highest pitch of their 
voices. Mocking cries came from a troop of mischievous 
monkeys, but that was all. 

“Maybe something has happened to him,” said the 
young botanist, in awed tones. 

Wynne sniffed incredulously. 

“More like he’s rejoined his villainous mates. We can’t 
waste any more time, chum. If we intend to get back our 
outfits, we’d better be moving.” 

Quebracho nodded his head grimly on being informed 
that Cyclops had disappeared. 

“We find him bimeby,” he said, significantly. 


no 


The Cry from the Jungle. 

The canoes swept out into the center of the river, and 
the pursuit of the recreant mariners was commenced. As 
they passed the spot where they had been so near to death, 
Thekla and Wynne shuddered. The alligators, possibly 
alarmed by the presence of so many boats, had concealed 
themselves under the surface. 

After a mile had been covered. Quebracho gave the sig- 
nal to steer for the left bank. 

“Maybe they hide and shoot at us,’^ he said. “I send 
scout ahead to look.” 

As the bow of the canoe in which the boys were seated 
touched shore a hoarse cry, evidently of agonized fear, 
came from a dense thicket a few yards from the water’s 
edge. 

With a bound, Thekla left the boat. Accompanied by 
Quebracho and several other natives, he ran to the spot. 
Parting the bushes, they peered through, only to recoil 
with horror ! 


CHAPTER XIII. 


CYCLOPS AND THE BOA CONSTRICTOR — FLIGHT OF THE 
TRAITORS. 

The sight which met the eyes of Thekla and the natives 
when they peered past the intervening bushes was tragic 
in the extreme. Suspended from the outstretched limb of 
a gigantic greenheart tree was a huge boa constrictor. 

Its scaly length stretched down to where, wrapped in its 
crushing folds, crouched a man. The coils of the mon- 
strous serpent enveloped him from knees to shoulder. 

One arm only was free, and, fastened to the end in place 
of the hand, was a glittering steel hook. As the horrified 
spectators looked, the metal instrument was raised on 
high, then descended upon the thick folds of the con- 
strictor with terrific force. 

The point cut through the scaly coating, and a torrent 
of blood gushed forth. Tighter grew the coils, a terrible 
cry of agony came from the victim, then, with an inarticu- 
late shout, Thekla sprang to the rescue. 

He had not taken more than three steps before he was 
grasped by the shoulder and forced backward. 


112 Cyclops and the Boa Constrictor. 

“Stop! I do that!” exclaimed a voice, fiercely, and 
Quebracho’s lithe form dashed past him. 

The native was armed with a keen-edged machete, 
which he wielded with the skill of one familiar with the 
formidable weapon. Advancing fearlessly to where the 
boa constrictor was slowly but surely killing his victim, 
he aimed a blow at the writhing body. 

The head of the reptile darted toward him with light- 
ning-like rapidity, but Quebracho nimbly leaped aside. 
Fascinated with horror, Thekla and Wynne, the latter 
having just appear upon the scene, watched the terrific 
combat. 

They saw Cyclops’ face, distorted with fear, turned in 
their direction. The old sailor’s solitary eye glared at 
them with a piteous expression. An old scar, received in 
some bygone fight, stood out in a livid welt. The perspi- 
ration rained from his face, and his scanty hair seemed 
glued to his skull. 

A shuddering cry came from him, and he again brought 
his hook into play with a last desperate effort. Quebracho 
showered blow after blow upon the constrictor, and finally 
the tenacious folds slackened. 

In obedience to a call from the Indian, a number of the 
natives sprang to his assistance, and between them the 


Cyclops and the Boa Constrictor. 113 

snake, terrible in its dying agony, was dragged from the 
old sailor. 

The sailor dropped to the ground apparently lifeless. 
Quebracho bent over him, and, after a cursory glance, 
said, grimly : 

''He no dead. He come to bimeby.’’ 

Water was brought from the river by Wynne, but it 

was fully ten minutes before Cyclops opened his eyes. 

He gave a convulsive shudder, and leaped to his feet with 

an energy that sent those surrounding him backward in 
> 

surprise. 

"Death of my peeper!” he roared. "Brocky Sinn, 

Brocky ” 4 

He abruptly ceased speaking, and glanced sheepishly 
at the boys and the group of natives. 

"I — I didn’t know where I was. Is it ye — I remember 
now — that sarpent, where — who saved me from it?” 

"Quebracho,” replied Thekla, solemnly. "You owe 
your life to him.” 

Cyclops turned to look for the Indian, but the latter 
pretended to examine the dead constrictor, and apparently 
failed to see the old sailor’s outstretched hand. 

The action was not lost upon Cyclops. A dark frown 
crossed his brow, but only for a second. He stepped for- 


1 14 Cyclops and the Boa Constrictor. 

ward, and, giving the native a hearty slap upon the shoul- 
der, said : 

“Ye’ve made a good friend, mate. I may be crippled 
and one-eyed, but I’ve got a sound heart. Ye kin com- 
mand me from now on.” 

“You able to go with us?” coldly asked the Ven- 
ezuelan. 

The old sailor carefully felt his ribs, and replied in the 
affirmative. A few moments later the canoes were again 
in motion. As they hugged the bank of the river a scout 
who had been sent ahead by Quebracho appeared occa- 
sionally with the report that nothing was yet in sight. 

“How did you happen to run foul of that dreadful boa 
constrictor?” asked Thekla. “And, by the way, why 
didn’t you wait for us in the clearing ?” 

“I’ll answer the last question first, lad,” replied Cyclops, 
with apparent candor. “After you left me I got ter think- 
ing that maybe Brocky Sinn was still hiding in the vicin- 
ity. I reckoned that it would be a good plan ter see, so I 
started up the bank with that intention. 

“I hadn’t traveled a mile, when, suddenly, as I was 
passing under a tree, down came part of a big snake. It 
had me in a jiffy, and I felt that my old carcass was about 
due in Davy Jones’ locker. While I was fightin’ for dear 
life you came along. You know the rest.” 


Cyclops and tlie Boa Constrictor. 115 

“It was a narrow escape, and you, like Wynne and me, 
are indebted to Quebracho for your life. He is a noble 
fellow, and ’’ 

He was interrupted by a shrill whistle. The warning 
sound came from the scout. Stepping to the edge of the 
river, he uttered a few native words in a guttural voice. 

“We get them now,” Quebracho told the boys. “Scout 
say they hiding beyond that big rock ahead. They ready 
to shoot at us. We fix: them.” 

“Can’t they be captured without bloodshed?” asked 
Thekla. “I would rather send them back to Georgetown 
than to see the fellows killed.” 

“If ye say th’ word. I’ll parley with Brocky,’^ spoke up 
Cyclops, eagerly. “He played me a dirty trick, but I hate 
ter see an old mate wiped out. What d’ye say. Que- 
bracho ?” 

Before the Indian could reply, a warning cry came 
from the native upon the bank, then he slipped rapidly 
behind a group of palms. A puff of white smoke showed 
at the other edge of the jungle, and a bullet zipped the 
surface of the water between two of the canoes. 

“Th’. blasted fools !” hoarsely exclaimed Cyclops. 

Quebracho leaped to his feet, his rifle fell into his hands, 
and he sent a shot hurtling into the bush. A moment later 


ii6 Cyclops and the Boa Constrictor. 

the little flotilla was sweeping up the stream under the 
impulse of a score of paddles. 

“That settles the question/' remarked Wynne, excitedly. 
“Brocky Sinn and his mates are in for it now \” 

“Th' blooming, blasted idjuts!" muttered the old sailor, 
bringing his hook down upon the edge of the canoe. 
“Brocky Sinn ain’t got th’ sense of a dead sand crab. 
He’s ruined everything, blast him !” 

“What’s that?” asked Thekla, whose hearing was keen. 

“I said that Brocky had ruined hisself, and a blooming 
good job for us. Sarves him right for being a traitor. 
Death of my peeper ! thar they go !” 

At that moment the canoes swept past a bend in the 
right bank. Just disappearing at the other end of the 
curve was the fugitive boat. Standing erect in the stern 
and shaking his fists at his pursuers was the late owner of 
the Sinhad. 

Quebracho uttered a fierce cry. His paddle flew up and 
down with marvelous rapidity, and the light craft shot 
ahead as if propelled by machinery. The boys were 
greatly excited. The spirit of the chase — thgit old leaven 
hereditary in man since the dark ages — set their blood 
tingling strangely, and they grasped their revolvers as if 
eager for the fray. 

The only member of the party lacking in enthusiasm 


Cyclops and tlie Boa Constrictor. 117 

was Cyclops. The old sailor crouched in the bottorh of 
the canoe, with his great head sunken between his shoul- 
ders, and an expression of bitter disappointment upon his 
rugged face. It was evident matters were not to his 
liking. 

On dashed the canoes— on, on, until at last they reached 
the point beyond which the recreant sailors had vanished. 
With his trusty rifle ready for instant use. Quebracho 
stood like an alert sentinel in the bow of the foremost 
craft. 

The boys saw his hand go up with a signal of caution — 
then he turned to them with a contemptuous shrug of his 
shoulders. 

'T thought so. They scared. The bad white men leave 
boat and run into jungle. Ha ! we soon catch them.” 

Lying broadside to the bank several hundred yards in 
advance was the fugitives’ boat, but of Brocky Sinn and 
his evil crew nothing was visible. They had evidently 
sought safety in flight. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


CYCLOPS PLAYS HIS PART. 

When, a few moments, later, the canoes surrounded 
the abandoned craft, Thekla saw, to his exceeding relief, 
that nothing had been disturbed. In the bottom were the 
various stores, and piled in the bow were the two tents the 
lad had purchased in Georgetown. 

Lying across them was a Winchester rifle, evidently 
dropped by one of the sailors in his hasty flight. The 
young botanist snatched it up with an exclamation of joy. 

“Thank goodness they left this. A man without weap- 
ons in this country is pretty well handicapped.” 

“You boys stay here and we catch bad men,” spoke up 
Quebracho. “We find them quick. They no run far in 
jungle.” 

“I hardly think it worth while to go to the trouble,” 
hesitatingly replied Thekla. “Let them escape. They 
can’t do us any more harm, and we’ll only be bothered 
with them.” 

“No bother long,” significantly replied the Indian. 
“You say so, and we no bring them back.” 

“No, no! No needless bloodshed. It will punish the 


Cyclops Plays His Part. 119 

scoundrels sufficiently to abandon them here. They’ll have 
hard enough time of it getting back to Georgetown.” 

“That’s the proper spirit, lad,” exclaimed Cyclops, flour- 
ishing his hook. “There speaks the heart of ye. Forgive 
yer enemies, say I. Brocky played me a scurvy trick ; he 
went back on his own mate, but I say let him go.” 

Quebracho reluctantly consented to give itp the chase, 
but it was evident he felt considerably disappointed. His 
native allies waxed highly indignant, but a few words 
from their leader calmed them. A white man-hunt 
through the jungle was a sport not to be lightly sur- 
rendered. 

While Wynne, assisted by the old sailor, overhauled the 
stores, Thekla took Quebracho aside and asked him ear- 
nestly if he could not be persuaded to accompany them. 

“You know the interior thoroughly,” he added. '“You 
understand everything, the best routes, the way to camp, 
the securing of food, and not least of all, I feel convinced 
that you can almost locate the valley. Now, won’t you 
come with us ? I’ll give you anything you ask. You can 
have a good share of the gold ” 

“I no want gold,” interrupted the Indian, with a grim 
smile. “I find plenty, but I no use it. White men fools. 
They die for it. They come here, catch fever, starve, 
fight like caymen, all for yellow dust. Humph !” 


120 Cyclops Plays His Part. 

^That’s so/’ acknowledged the lad, frankly. '‘But up 
where I live it means a good deal. Without money — and 
gold is money — ^we could not live. But that is neither 
here nor there. I want you to go with us. I sincerely 
like you, Quebracho, and I know that you are an honest, 
brave man. You have saved our lives, and we are grate- 
ful to you. Can’t I persuade you to accompany us ?” 

The Indian hesitated. It was evident from his manner 
that he had taken a fancy to the lads. He admired Thekla 
for his manly ways, and he felt a great pity for the little 
hunchback. Deformity of any kind was foreign to him. 
The people of his race were free from blemish, and it 
seemed to his untutored mind that Wynne was deserving 
of special protection. 

The very thought of the Valley of Death caused his face 
to blanch with fear, however. The awful spectacle of his 
father, scarred, aged, sightless and dying, was as vivid to 
his mind’s eye as the hour he had staggered into view on 
his return from the mysterious place. 

“No, no! I no go there!” he said, spreading out his 
hands as if to repel some ghostly vision. “I no go there.” 

“Come part of the way, then,” pleaded Thekla. “You 
can surely guide us within easy distance of the valley. Do 
not refuse.” 

Quebracho pondered for several moments, then he con- 


121 


Cyclops Plays His Part. 

sented on condition that he be allowed to take two com- 
panions. 

“We take your boat and one canoe/' he added. “I go 
to place one day’s journey from where I think valley is, 
then I wait for you. If you satisfied we start right away.” 

Thekla was overjoyed at his good luck in securing such 
a guide, and he hastened to acquaint Wynne and the old 
sailor with the intelligence. The little hunchback cor- 
dially shook hands with their new guide, and Cyclops was 
even more effusive in his expressions of delight. 

“Death of my eye! th’ blooming expedition is as good 
as done,” he said. “With yer to lead us, we’ve got ther 
gold in our purses this very hour.” 

Several minutes later, while the boats were being pre- 
pared for the journey, the old sailor slipped out of sight 
into the brush. Hastily taking a pencil and a bit of paper 
from his pocket, he laboriously indited the following sig- 
nificant note : 

“Deer Brocky: You’re a blasted fule fur shootin’ that 
time and when I see yer I’m going ter beat yer blamed 
head off’n yer shoulders. If it hadn’t bene fur that we’d 
got them kids and now they got us, and we leave rite away 
fur the vally, and they’ve got the nigger to guide us, and 
we’re not in it if yer don’t hurry back ter town and get 
more boats and follow us. I’ll try to delay the experdition 
as much as possible. Next time we git a chance we’ll slit 


122 


Cyclops Plays His Part. 

the weasands of them kids. No more at present from yer 
old mate, Cyclops McGinnis.'" 

Selecting a conspicuous ti ee, he fastened the letter to the 
trunk with a thorn picked from a neighboring bush. 

“If the devil is with us, as I think he is, Brocky'll walk 
straight ter that note when he sneaks back ter the water,” 
muttered the old rascal, as he made his way to the boats. 

He found everything in readiness for the departure. 
The two boys. Quebracho and another native boarded the 
larger craft, leaving Cyclops and the remaining Indian to 
the canoe. 

Amid gceat hurrahing and flourishing of arms the na- 
tives from the village escorted the little expedition out into 
the middle of the stream, when they turned back with a 
farewell yell. 

The party camped that night upon a small island, and 
shortly before sunset the following evening the town 
where Cyclops had expected to find a river craft was 
reached. There were several of the crude, ungainly boats 
at anchor off the miserable collection of huts, and terms 
were made without delay with one of the skippers. 

At dawn the journey was resumed. Quebracho's canoe 
and the boat brought from Georgetown were towed astern 
of the larger vessel. The latter excited the old sailor's 


Cyclops Plays His Part. 123 

contempt, and he freely derided the actions of the native 
crew. 

“It’s about time honest sailors left their business when 
such a nondescript thing as this kin float,” he confided to 
Thekla and Wynne. “Just look at that mast. Huh l it’s 
stepped like the flagpole of a backwoods election club. An’ 
git on to them sails ! Ho ! ho ! they must have been cut 
with ■an ax. I’ve been seafarin’, man and boy, fur many 
a year, but my peeper has never been sot on such a hooker 
before.” 

“It is probably good enough for river trade,” remarked 
Wynne. 

“I suppose so,” replied the old sailor, dryly, “but I’m 
thinkin’ the skipper’d make more money showing his bum- 
boat in a dime museum.” 

The craft was hardly a clipper, but, as Wynne said, it 
sufficed for the Mazaruni River traffic. It was rudely 
constructed of wood, and the hull probably measured fifty 
feet over all. It was bluff in the bows, and cut off square 
astern. 

The one mast was stepped almost in the extreme bow. 
One huge sail made of woven grass hung from a yard. 
The ratlines were of hemp, and almost covering the entire 
deck was a house open at the sides. 

The steersman stood upon this, handling a tiller at least 


124 


Cyclops Plays His Part. 


fifteen feet long. Slow progress was made against the 
current, and Cyclops grinned to himself as he reflected 
upon the advantages thus offered to Brocky Sinn and his 
crew. 

“I’ve alius thought a sick snail was the slowest thing on 
earth,” he joked, “but it’s got ter take off its cap ter this 
hooker. Whew ! we’ll be past th’ need of gold before we 
git up the river.” 

Favorable winds carried them to the head of navigation 
by the third day, however. Shortly before noon the much- 
maligned craft slowly rounded a bend and came in sight 
of a collection of modern-built houses, in the center of 
which flaunted the colonial flag of British Guiana. 

It was the extreme outpost of the military police. 

“Now fur the carryin’ out o’ my scheme,” muttered 
Cyclops, as his solitary eye fell upon a group of men in 
uniform near the little wharf. “If them kids don’t git 
dragged back ter Georgetown before th’ week’s out. I’ll 
chaw my hook.” 

The boys were regarded with evident curiosity when the 
party landed. A tall, bronzed officer, in a white linen 
uniform, evidently an Englishman, met them, and, after 
an exchange of greetings, politely asked their destination. 

“We are making a trip into Venezuela,” replied Thekla. 

“Your nationality?” 


I2S 


Cyclops Plays His Part. 

“Americans.” 

The official lifted his brows suspiciously, and several of 
his companions, evidently junior officers, exchanged sig- 
nificant glances. 

“Americans, eh ?” 

“Yes ; we are from New York.” 

“When did you reach Georgetown?” 

“Eight days ago, sir.” 

The commandant excused himself and stepped aside 
with a subordinate. There was a brief consultation, and 
an exchange of several official papers, then the boys were 
politely informed that they must submit to a search. 

“Why?” asked Thekla, rather indignantly. ‘We are 
merely travelers bound overland to Venezuela. We have 
done nothing, and ” 

“You must do as we wish or return to Georgetown,” 
haughtily interrupted the official. 

“I guess it^s because we are Americans,” blurted out 
Wynne. 

“No ; it is because you may be spies,” retorted the com- 
mandant. “I have orders from headquarters to search 
every person attempting to cross the frontier, and I cer- 
tainly intend to obey.” 

“Very well; you will find nothing,” said Thekla, con- 


126 Cyclops Plays His Part. 

temptuously. “Go ahead ; we wish to proceed as soon as 
possible.” 

The baggage was first examined thoroughly, then two 
of the police carefully searched the pockets of Wynne and 
Thekla. A third stepped forward to perform a like serv- 
ice with Cyclops, but, to the unbounded astonishment of 
the boys, the old sailor suddenly turned and darted down 
the bank of the river. 

“After him, men !” shouted the commandant. “Catch 
the spy before he has a chance to destroy any messages.” 

Turning to Thekla, he added, furiously : 

“Thought you would bluff your way through, eh ? Fm 
too old a campaigner to be caught by a confounded 
Yankee.” 


CHAPTER XV. 


A FLASH OF STEEL. 

Thekla was too bewildered by Cyclops’ unaccountable 
action to reply. The old sailor was caught before he had 
gone far, and dragged back to the group of officers. 

He was instantly searched by willing hands, but nothing 
incriminating was discovered. By the commandant’s or- 
ders, the vicinity was carefully gone over, the ground 
thoroughly examined, but without result. 

“What did you mean by your attempt to escape?” he 
was asked. 

Cyclops maintained a dogged silence. 

“Why don’t you speak?” exclaimed Wynne, angrily. 

No answer. 

“It certainly seems as if you are trying to get us into 
trouble,” continued the hunchback. 

The old sailor’s face was as expressionless as his hook. 
His one eye was directed to the ground, and he stood with 
his shoulders bent and his arms hanging loosely — the typi- 
cal attitude of a stubborn man. 

“Cyclops, you surely haven’t lost your tongue?” impa- 


128 


A Flash of Steel. 


tiently exclaimed Thekla. “What do you mean by these 
peculiar actions? Why did you run away just now?” 

After a moment’s hesitation, the wily old rascal heaved 
a sigh, and replied, in mournful tones : 

“I don’t blame yer for chiding me, youngster. I ain’t 
fit to look yer in the face. I’ve spoiled the game.” 

“Spoiled the game !” echoed Thekla, in amazement. 

Cyclops nodded gloomily. 

“Yes. We’re ketched at last. I told yer we couldn’t 
hope to git past the frontier police.” 

The commandant pricked up his ears. He rubbed his 
hands, grimly, and exchanged glances with his subordi- 
nates. The boys were completely dumfounded. 

“Cyclops McGinnis, are you crazy?” cried the young 
botanist. “What are you talking about ? What game do 
you mean?” 

“This farce has gone far enough,” roughly interrupted 
the commandant of the post. 

“It is not a farce, sir. I do not know what he means 
by his most extraordinary actions. We have ” 

“Tut, tut ! You are only wasting words, young man. 
You may as well confess that you are on a spying ex- 
pedition.” 

“I’ll do nothing of the kind,” hotly retorted Thekla, 


A Flash of Steel. 


129 

“It’ll be all the worse for you, then. We’ve heard from 
headquarters of the interest the President of the United 
States is taking in the Venezuelans, and I haven’t the 
slightest doubt but that you were sent down here as spies.” 

“The very idea is preposterous. We are on our way 
into Venezuela, and we are minding our own business.” 

“That’s a likely story. Well, I’ll let you settle the ques- 
tion with the governor at Georgetown. And I may say 
in passing, that a description of your man’s actions will 
certainly cause him to deport you from Guiana. Take the 
prisoners to the guardhouse, men.” 

As a file of police stepped forward to seize the boys, a 
startling interruption occurred. During the spirited inter- 
view between the commandant and the boys. Quebracho 
had remained almost concealed in the shadow of a little 
building near the shore end of the wharf. 

His presence had been ignored by the officers, who prob- 
ably thought he and his companions were part of the river 
boat’s crew. As the commandant issued the order. Que- 
bracho quietly stepped out in front of him. 

“How do. Captain Lloyd,” he said, extending his hand. 

“What! Why, bless my soul if it isn’t Quebracho!” 
cried the officer, in evident amazement. “Where under 
the sun did you come from ?” 


130 


A Flash of Steel. 


“I with these people. I guide for them.’’ 

“Guide for them ? Is it possible you have gone back on 
me, Quebracho? I did not think the chief, who has been 
my best friend during my sojourn in this confounded 
jungle, would turn guide for a party of spies.” 

“They no spies, sir,” replied the Indian, with dignity. 
“That bad white man with crooked hand lies. He try to 
ruin them. I know what boys do in Venezuela. They 
go hunt for that valley I tell you about long ago- — the val- 
ley where my father get killed.” 

“The Valley of Death!” exclaimed the commandant, 
glancing at the boys wonderingly. “Is it possible you are 
going on such a fool’s errand?” 

“Now that Quebracho has told you, I am willing to 
confess that it is our destination,” replied Thekla, quietly. 
“I wished to keep it a secret for certain reasons.” 

“It is a good thing for you the Indian was not so close- 
mouthed. I am inclined to believe that you are telling the 
truth, young man. Quebracho is my friend ; I know him 
well, and what he says goes with me. But what about 
this one-eyed sailor?” 

The unexpected change of affairs had carried dismay to 
Cyclops’ heart. The recognition of the native and its re- 
sults had given the death stroke to his rascally plan. While 


A Flash of Steel. 131 

» 

the commandant was speaking the old sailor glanced fur- 
tively about, as if meditating another break for liberty. 

A stalwart sergeant at his elbow restrained him, how- 
ever. He glared balefully at Quebracho, and wriggled 
his hook, as if wishing that he was in a position to use it 
upon the native’s face. 

Recent events had one certain result. It convinced 
Thekla that Cyclops had been sailing under false colors. 
He was prompt to acknowledge that he had been mistaken 
in his estimation of the old sailor’s character, and he lost 
no time in telling him so. 

“You are a miserable scoundrel, after all, McGinnis,” he 
said, hotly. “It has taken me some time to find you out, 
but I know it now. By your contemptible tricks you have 
almost caused us a long delay. You have played your 
part well, but your game is up at last.” 

“We’ll see whether it is, blast ye!” roared Cyclops, 
furiously. 

“You will go back to Georgetown, my man,” spoke up 
Captain Lloyd. 

“Not much. Ye haven’t enough men ter send me back. 
An’ as fur these kids, we’ll do ’em yet as sure as the sea 
is salt.” 

With a powerful twist of his arms, the old sailor jerked 
away from the guards. Then, raising his hook aloft, he 


132 


A Flash of Steel. 


dashed up to Thekla. There was a flash of steel, and the 
lad went down as if shot. 

Quebracho bounded forward with drawn machete, but 
before h^ could reach him, Cyclops darted to the end of 
the little wharf and sprang into the river with a cry of 
defiance ! 


CHAPTER XVI. 


THEKLA IS STRICKEN. 

The cowardly attack of Cyclops on Thekla was so en- 
tirely unexpected that no move was made to intercept the 
old scoimdred except by Quebracho. 

The latter’s attempt came tardily, and before he could 
reach him Cyclops was in the river, swimming lustily for 
the opposite bank. The Indian’s first thought was to fol- 
low and wreak summary vengeance upon the old sailor, 
but he caught sight of Thekla’s outstretched form, and he 
hastened to his side instead. 

Wynne had preceded him, but the twain reached the 
supposed victim only to find that his eyes were open, albeit 
a little dazed in appearance. The next moment Thekla 
sprang to his feet. 

A slight scratch upon his chin, and a long rip in his 
jacket, told the story. The murderous hook had failed in 
its purpose. The blow, powerful as it was, had been 
badly aimed, and to that the young botanist owed his life. 

In the meantime all was animation. Captain Lloyd, 
whose attention had been momentarily attracted to Thekla, 
now showed his military training. Under his prompt di- 


Thekla is Stricken. 


134 

rections, half a dozen police piled into a government boat 
and started after the fugitive. 

A young lieutenant hastened to the nearest house, and 
returning with a rifle, sent a shot hurtling at Cyclops just 
as the fellow gained the shore. He was seen to stagger, 
then disappear in the jungle. 

“Hurrah, that got him!” screamed Wynne. “Que- 
bracho, get our boat, and ” 

“No ; the men will bring him back,” interrupted Thekla. 
“There isn’t any use to go across.” ^ 

“Yes, they’ll attend to the rascal,” spoke up Captain 
Lloyd, grimly. “If he does not succeed in reaching the 
Black Swamp, they’ll nab him all right.” 

“The Black Swamp ?” 

“A quarter of a mile from the river is an extensive 
morass known by that name. ' It is boggy, and buried in 
almost impenetrable vegetation. It is mighty hard to 
track a man through it. We had a case not long ago. 
One of our native servants murdered a comrade and took 
to the swamp. We searched for him, but without results. 
He’s over there yet if the animals haven’t eaten him.” 

“Then there is a chance of Cyclops escaping?” 

“Yes, one chance in a hundred. Remember, he is 
wounded. But come up to my house and wait until the 
men return.” 


Thekla is Stricken. 


135 

As if to atone for his previous treatment, the command- 
ant became very hospitable. He ordered a lunch, and told 
the boys many stories of his experiences in the jungles of 
Guiana. 

He cordially agreed with Thekla in the belief that war 
between the two greatest nations on earth was absolutely 
impossible, and toasted the Yankees in a well-filled 
bumper. He also tried to dissuade the boys from attempt- 
ing the trip to the Valley of Mystery, but his efforts failed 
signally. 

“We have come thousands of miles for that one purpose, 
and we do not intend to back out now,” replied the young 
botanist, simply. 

In the course of an hour an orderly appeared with the 
information that the pursuing party had failed to capture 
the fugitive. The border police had followed him to the 
Black Swamp and searched the edge thoroughly, but with- 
out success. 

Quebracho, who was in the room, sprang to his feet. 

“I go with my men,” he said, grimly. ‘T find him.” 

But he, too, failed. For twelve hours the Indians re- 
mained in the Black Swamp. They followed trail after 
trail, penetrated the morass in every direction, and beat the 
bush thoroughly, but without discovering the fugitive. 


136 


Thekla is Stricken. 


Completely crestfallen, Quebracho returned to the post. 
By his advice the expedition was delayed for three days. 
At the expiration of that time Thekla advised a move. 

“Cyclops has probably fallen a victim to some venomous 
snake or wild beast,” he said. “He is unaccustomed to 
the jungle, and he would prove easy prey. There isn’t 
any need of wasting time now. We will resume the jour- 
ney to-morrow morning.” 

At daybreak the two boats left the little wharf, followed 
by the hearty “Godspeeds” of gallant Captain Lloyd and 
his men. That night the party camped fifty miles from 
the post, having been favored with a constant breeze. 

The next two days passed without incident. On the 
third morning Thekla arose from his hammock with a 
peculiar drawn expression upon his face and a severe 
headache. 

He said nothing, but quietly attended to his part of the 
work. His illness was unnoticed by the others, and the 
journey was continued as usual. That noon the flat, 
jungle-like scenery bordering the river suddenly changed. 
The boats passed a low range of hills, then a lofty moun- 
tain came into view. 

Quebracho showed signs of uneasiness. He ordered the 


Thekla is Stricken. 


137 

little sail lowered, then as the two men slowly pulled the 
boat up stream, he anxiously scanned the banks. 

These gradually increased in height, until finally the 
river flowed between perpendicular cliffs. The rocky 
sides were bare of vegetation, and seemed like glass in 
their smoothness. 

At the summit the nodding tops of palms were visible, 
and here and there clusters of vines hung over the edges 
in a vain attempt to find support. 

In the course of half an hour a distant noise like the 
murmur of falling water became apparent. A bend in the 
river was passed, then a series — there must have been a 
score — of cascades came into view. They were of con- 
siderable size, and indicated the presence of numerous 
streams on the upper plateau. 

Quebracho started to his feet and motioned his men 
to cease rowing. 

‘‘We must be near the Valley of Death,’' excitedly ex- 
claimed Wynne. 

Thekla made no reply, but remained crouched down in 
the stern — a position he had occupied since entering the 
boat that morning. In the engrossing interest of the mo- 
ment the little hunchback did not notice the strange silence 
of his chum. 


Thekla is Stricken. 


138 

Suddenly Quebracho pulled up the smaller canoe — 
which had been towing astern — and sprang into it. 

“Wait here/’ he said, in a deep voice. “I go look.” 

The two Indians rowed to the nearest bank and moored 
the boat to a projecting spur of rock, while Quebracho 
paddled ahead. Presently he returned with every trace of 
excitement. 

“We near place,” he shouted. “We go one hour more, 
then land. Hurry, quick.” 

In his eagerness, Wynne seized one of the oars and 
pulled lustily, but Thekla still sat in his place looking up 
the river. After passing an enormous ledge of rock which 
stood out into the stream like a mighty barrier, an open- 
ing in the perpendicular surface of the cliff was seen. 

It was fully fifty feet in width, but the roof was low, 
probably not one-third of that. Through this cavern — for 
such it proved to be — a torrent of water rushed tumultu- 
ously, sending a mass of foam-crested waves clear to the 
opposite bank of the river. 

A short distance from the cave, and toward the boats, 
there was a break in the cliff — a narrow crack which 
seemed to slope upward to the summit. Rising to his 
feet. Quebracho indicated it with outstretched hand, and 
said, solemnly : 


Thekla is Stricken. 


139 


“We go up there to top, then you be within one day 
of the Valley of Mystery.” 

Wynne’s heart bounded with joy. At last the end of the 
journey was near. He turned to exchange congratulations 
with Thekla ; he caught one glimpse of the lad’s face, then 
he uttered a cry of alarm. 


CHAPTER XVIL 


CAUGHT AT LAST. 

There was ample cause for Wynne’s sudden exclama- 
tion. Thekla had slipped down until he was half reclin- 
ing in the stern of the boat. His face was ghastly pale, 
and his partially opened eyes bore a glassy stare which 
meant unconsciousness. 

He was breathing rapidly and apparently with an effort. 
His right hand clutched the gunwale of the boat with such 
tenacity that the nails were buried in the wood. His cap 
had fallen off, and his crisp black hair clung closely to 
his dank forehead. 

Quebracho scrambled from his place in the bow, and 
stooped over the lad. He felt his hand, peered into his 
eyes, then turned to the oarsmen with a fierce command. 

The next moment the boat was being urged toward the 
crevice in the face of the cliff. Impelled by the powerful 
arms of the natives, it soon touched the rock. While 
Wynne looked on in wonderment, and with extreme 
anxiety. Quebracho picked up Thekla and stepped upon a 
shelf of stone at the foot of the cleft. 


Caught at Last. 14 1 

“Help men bring stores/’ called out the Indian, as he 
started to ascend the jagged interior. 

“What is the matter with Thekla? Oh, tell me what 
has happened to him ?” pleaded the little hunchback. 

“He got woorari — it calenture — swamp fever. Him 
very bad now. I get him to top, then look for plants to 
cure him.” 

The last words came from a distance, and as the giant 
native vanished behind a projecting spur. Beset with a 
sense of impending misfortune, Wynne picked up a few 
articles, and left the boat. 

After a long and extremely difficult ascent he reached 
the summit of the cliff. He found it covered with a 
luxuriant growth of vegetation of a more temperate class 
than that met with in the lower reaches. 

Under the shade of a lofty oak tree he saw Quebracho 
actively engaged in making a soft bed for Thekla from a 
mass of branches and leaves. The latter was still insen- 
sible and breathing heavily. 

Telling Wynne to complete the rude couch, the Indian 
disappeared in the bush. The other natives presently ar- 
rived, bearing a portion of the stores. They looked at the 
young botanist with evident sympathy, then they placidly 
resumed their task. 

The little hunchback sat by his chum, and sorrowfully 


142 Caught at Last. 

bathed his face with water brought from below. It was 
fully an hour before Quebracho returned. 

His step was elastic, and he seemed greatly pleased. 
He bore in his arms a quantity of roots and leaves of a 
deep-green color. These the Indian carefully placed upon 
the ground. Without stopping to look at the sick lad, he 
took their largest camp kettle and after filling it with 
water, set the utensil upon an improvised fireplace. 

By his command one of the other natives chopped the 
roots and leaves into minute fragments with a machete. 
A moment later the decoction was bubbling in the pot. 

Wynne watched the operation with exceeding interest. 
He saw Quebracho taste the brew from time to time, then 
when it had finally reached a syrup-like consistency it 
was pronounced finished. 

It was with the greatest difficulty that Thekla was 
forced to swallow a small quantity, but the effect was mar- 
velous. The lad’s face assumed a flush, his breathing be- 
came more natural, and he passed into what seemed a 
healthy sleep. 

Wynne’s delight was manifest. He danced about the 
green, and shook hands with Quebracho again and again. 

“You are the best doctor on earth,” he exclaimed. “Gee- 
whiz ! I never saw such a miraculous cure. Say, old fel- 


Caught at Last. 143 

low, if you would only go to New York your fortune 
would be made/’ 

The Indian modestly shook his head. 

‘T know nothing but few little plants,” he replied. ‘‘My 
people teach me how cure woorari and few other things. 
Maybe same plants no help many people. Master Thekla, 
he sleep now for six — seven days, then ” 

“Sleep for six or seven days ?” 

“Yes, he no open his eyes for that time, then he be 
weak for many more days. He been very bad. If he no 
strong boy he die.” 

“But he is all right now, isn’t he ?” 

“Yes, he get well sure. But no can go to valley for 
four weeks.” 

“I don’t care a snap if it is a year, so he pulls through 
all right. A month, eh? Well, we’ll just camp right here 
and enjoy ourselves. We will celebrate the occasion with 
some music.” 

The little hunchback brought out his beloved violin, 
which he had carried in a water-tight case from George- 
town. As he sat upon the end of a fallen tree tuning the 
instrument. Quebracho and the other Indians eyed him 
with evident awe and veneration. 

“Now, shake your leg,” he shouted, gayly. “This is a 
dance in honor of my chum. Here goes.” 


144 


CaugHt at Last. 


The lively strains of “The Mobile Buck” floated through 
the air to the great edification of his audience. Wynne 
handled his bow with exceeding skill, and it was not long 
before Quebracho’s usually grave face relaxed into a 
broad smile. 

^ Presently a troop of curious monkeys swung from 
branch to branch, until they were gathered directly over 
the young musician’s head. Their chattering ceased, and 
they , looked down with preternatural glances of enjoy- 
ment. A score of parrots flocked to the spot, attracted by 
the unusual sounds, then a grunting peccary, with shaggy 
hair and comical white cheeks, scampered up. 

Suddenly Wynne changed to an extract from Gounod. 
As the deep, solemn strains fell upon the ears of his au- 
dience, their mood instantly changed. Quebracho and his 
companions showed signs of emotion ; the monkeys beat a 
hasty retreat, and the parrots flew away with loud shrieks. 

The little hunchback dropped his bow and laughed. 

“Who says that music does not soothe the savage 
breast? Quebracho, if I hadn’t stopped, you would have 
shed unmanly tears. The concert is over. Now let us 
get to work at our camp.” 

By night everything was in readiness for a prolonged 
stay. The tents were pitched near the edge of the cliff 
where the cool evening breeze from the river could reach 


Caught at Last. 


145 

the invalid. Thekla was made as comfortable as possible 
upon a fragrant bed of fresh boughs. 

Quebracho and his companions swung their hammocks 
out under the trees, and Wynne took “pot luck” in the 
tent with his chum. Seven days after the arrival Thekla 
opened his eyes to complete consciousness. 

He was too weak to talk, but on the following morning 
he held a grand levee. It was difficult to convince him 
that he had been lying all that time absolutely insensible, 
and he persisted in believing that they had just left the 
boats. 

“You can’t fool me,” he chuckled, weakly. “Trying to 
take advantage of a poor, sick boy, eh? Wynne Teeters, 
I’m ashamed of you. Where is this place, anyway ?” 

“One day from valley,” replied Quebracho, gravely. 
“You have been here long tim.e, sir. We no fool you. You 
have woorari very bad. You all right now, but can’t get 
up for many days yet. I bring you another plant now. 
It make you strong.” 

At last, convinced of the true state of affairs, Thekla 
took matters philosophically. While Quebracho was gone 
after the new herbs he discussed their situation with his 
chum. 

“We could be much worse off, Wynne,” he said, gazing 
thoughtfully across the winding thread of a river at the 


146 Caught at Last. 

verdure-crowned cliffs on the opposite side. ^'Much worse 
off, indeed. We have covered a good part of our journey, 
and we are a day’s travel from the wonderful valley.” 

“I wish we were a day’s travel on our way back,” re- 
plied the little hunchback, with a sigh. “I’ve been talk- 
ing with Quebracho about his father’s experience, and 
from what he says, there must be devils in that valley.” 

“Nonsense ; don’t let him frighten you.” 

“He did not try to ; he meant every word he said” 

“How did his father happen to go there ?” 

“He was acting as a guide for a party of American ex- 
plorers. Quebracho was a young man then — I believe it 
was seven or eight years ago — and the tribe lived in this 
vicinity. His father was persuaded to accompany the 
party to this plateau. They penetrated beyond that moun- 
tain you see over there, then the guide and one of the 
Americans fell into a valley surrounded by inaccessible 
cliffs.” 

“And the guide escaped ?” eagerly asked Thekla, rising 
upon one elbow. 

“Yes, he escaped, but fearfully scarred and mutilated. 
He found his way back to the village, then died as Que- 
bracho has told you.” 

“And the explorer who was lost with him ?” 

“He never turned up.” 


147 


Caught at Last. 

“Wynne Teeters!” excitedly exclaimed the young 
botanist. 

“Yes?” 

“We have a clew at last. The writer of our cryptogram 
is no other than the explorer. He escaped death, and is 
still a prisoner in the valley.” 

Wynne doubtfully shook his head. 

“It may be so, chum, but one thing must be explained.” 

“What is that?” 

“The explorers were Americans. If this mysterious 
person is one of them, why did he not write in English 
upon that gold leaf ?” 

Thekla fell back nonplused. The point was certainly 
well taken. He was positive he had chanced upon the 
right solution, though, and he pondered over the matter 
until Wynne at last reminded him that he was an invalid. 

Quebracho returned presently with another consignment 
of herbs. He brewed a decoction for his young patient, 
and in the course of a week Thekla was able to leave the 
tent for a stroll. 

That afternoon the three Indians and Wynne started 
off to hunt some small game Quebracho had seen a few 
miles from camp. The store of canned provisions was 
getting low, and it was decided to replenish the stock be- 
fore the departure for the Valley of Mystery. 


148 Caught at Last. 

Thekla, left to himself, $wung a hammock between two 
trees a short distance from the edge of the bluff, and pro- 
ceeded to enjoy himself. He took Wynne’s violin, upon 
which he could play indifferently, and sounded a few more 
or less harmonious chords. 

From where he sat, the river was not visible. It was 
unfortunate that this was so, as at that moment a native 
canoe, bearing five men, came slowly around a bend not 
far below the crevice in the face of the cliff. 

Four of them were white, or had been white before 
months of travel in the tropical clime had grimed their 
faces. Three wore long, shaggy beards, which gave them 
the appearance of wild beasts — and wild beasts they were, 
in truth. 

One sitting in the stern was a great, burly man, with a 
round, good-humored countenance and a single eye, which 
gleamed from under a wrinkled brow in a manner giving 
the lie to the benevolence expressed by the other features. 

He was lolling back, with his left arm almost touching 
the water. Reflected from the surface was a glistening 
steel hook, which evidently did duty as a hand. 

The fifth member of the party was a native. He had 
a sneaking, treacherous look, but not in a greater degree 
than his companions. He stood in the bow of the boat 


Caught at Last. 149 

carefully scanning the cliffs, while two seafaring men 
pulled slowly up the stream. 

After a while the great cavern, with its torrent of 
tumultuous water, came into view. The native uttered 
an exclamation of satisfaction, and directed the oarsmen 
to head for the crevice. 

The old man with the steel hook landed first. While 
the others scrambled ashore he commenced the ascent to 
the summit of the cliff. In good time he reached the top, 
closely followed by his three white companions. As his 
head arose above the edge of the plateau, he caught sight 
of the tents and the lad swinging idly in the hammock. 
A half-stifled exclamation burst from his lips : 

“Death of my eye ! we’ve caught him at last !” 

His mates eagerly peered above the rim, then they, too, 
dodged back with low cries of satisfaction. A consulta- 
tion was held, then the four wild beasts crept softly upon 
level ground, and crawled upon their hands and knees to- 
ward the lad in the hammock. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

Wynne’s fortunate discovery. 

All unconscious of impending danger, Thekla continued 
to draw the bow across the strings of Wynne’s violin. He 
played softly, and presently began to sing a ditty he had 
learned from his chum. 

It was about a lad and a lassie and the strife of their 
hearts during the course of love’s young dream. His fresh 
young voice arose above the drone of insects and the many 
noises of a tenanted forest. 

The four men crawling along the grassy surface of 
the plateau heard him, and they exchanged exultant grins. 
The foremost, he of the one eye and steel hook, even went 
so far as to keep time to the song with his hook in grim 
mockery of spirit. 

At last they arrived within striking distance. They 
quietly arose to their feet and grouped themselves behind 
the lad. They rolled their tongues and smacked their 
cruel lips, in fond anticipation of the shock in store for 
their victim. 

Thekla continued to scrape and sing: 


Wynne’s Fortunate Discovery. 151 

“The maiden fair and lad so true, 

Sat side by side in Arcade-e-e 
Her golden hair and eyes so blue 
Seemed like the shimmer of the sea. 

The winds may blow and the Storm King rage. 

But ” 

“Ho! ho! ho! death of my peeper, but that’s a lovely 
song. Where did ye Tarn that, lad? And what a gal- 
lant voice ye have. It reminds me of the cogs in a tread- 
mill I used ter run in Dartmouth prison.” 

The bow dropped from Thekla’s nerveless hand, and 
he glanced at the grim, familiar faces surrounding him, 
with his own blanching to the color of ashes. His recent 
illness had robbed him of his former sturdy coolness, and 
a strange weakness crept over him as he realized his 
danger. 

At last he found his voice. Trying hard to disguise 
the tremor in it, he said : 

“So you have turned up at last, Cyclops?” 

“That’s what, my lad. We’re all here. There’s your 
old shipmate, Brocky Sinn, a lookin’ at yer. An’ Toole 
an’ Grogan. Ain’t ye glad to see ’em ? Ho ! ho ! ho ! this 
is the happiest moment I have experienced since I hooked 
it from Sing Sing.” 

Thekla did not attempt to reply to this badinage. He 
laid back with his eyes roving from face to face, and 


132 Wynne’s Fortunate Discovery. 

tried hard to believe that he was dreaming. Alas ! it was 
stern reality. 

“Where’s yer mates, lad?” asked Cyclops, roughly. 

The question brought a ray of hope to the young bot- 
anist. If Quebracho and Wynne and the natives would 
only return ! He reflected, with a sinking heart, that they 
had gone for the afternoon. At that moment they were 
probably having merry sport at the hunt, little realizing 
his peril. 

“I asked yer where yer mates are,” repeated the old 
sailor, with an oath. 

He reached over and gave the lad a vicious prod with 
his hook, adding: 

“None o’ yer independent actions, or it’ll be the worse 
for yer. Speak, consarn yer!” 

“They have gone hunting.” 

“Where?” 

“I do not know.” 

Cyclops beckoned to the native, who had appeared 
from below. 

“Ginger, take a sneak an’ see if yer can trail some 
people what left here a while back. Git yer nose in 
working order an’ spot them as soon as yer kin. Gro- 
gan, yer an’ Toole stand guard around the camp while I 
talk ter this kid.” 


Wynne^s Fortunate Discovery. 153 

The two sailors took stations behind bushes on the 
edge of the natural clearing where the tents had been 
pitched. One was armed with a Winchester; the other 
carried a brace of navy revolvers. Thekla noted the 
weapons with surprise; they were not among those pur- 
chased by him in Georgetown. 

Ginger, the native, lost no time in obeying Cyclops^ 
order. Stooping like a hound in chase of a fox, he hur- 
ried from tent to tent, then he carefully, but with incred- 
ible speed, examined every foot of the clearing. After 
a couple of false alarms, he found the trail. Waving 
his hand to the group, he disappeared in the brush. 

At almost the same moment Wynne Teeters sauntered 
carelessly into view past a dense clump of tree ferns on 
the other side of the camp. Shortly after leaving with 
the Indians, he had changed his mind about the hunt, and 
had concluded that he would find more enjoyment with 
Thekla. 

Totally unconscious of the change in affairs, he 
marched boldly into camp. Luckily, Cyclops and his 
mates were not looking in his direction, and his appear- 
ance escaped notice. 

The little hunchback stopped as if paralyzed. His hair 
stood on end, and his knees smote together. He checked 


154 Wynne^s Fortunate Discovery. 

an exclamation of mingled astonishment and terror, and 
dropped behind a log. 

“Gee-whiz ! it’s that old villain and his mates. Gee- 
whiz ! they’ve got Thekla, and they’ll kill him sure.” 

The very thought set his loyal heart beating furiously. 
He was armed with a revolver, and he fingered the 
weapon as if sorely tempted to use it. His better judg- 
ment intervened, however. He realized full well that he 
could not expect to cope with such overwhelming odds. 

One or even two of the rascals might fall, but the rest 
could easily overpower him. No, there was only one 
chance of helping Thekla, and that was to enlist the aid 
of the natives without loss of time. 

Impressed with the idea, he took one last look at his 
chum, then he wriggled away through the tall grass with 
a speed that would have been creditable to Quebracho 
himself. 

It was a race between Ginger and Wynne. The 
former was spurred on by his natural ferocity of spirit 
and the thirst of blood ; and the latter had as his in- 
centive the overwhelming desire to save his beloved chum 
from a terrible fate. Which would win? 

In the meantime, Cyclops McGinnis had been enjoying 


Wynne’s Fortunate Discovery. 155 

himself. He saw that Thekla had recently passed 
through a severe illness, and he gloated over the weak- 
ness of the lad. In his breast there was little trace of 
the milk of human kindness. 

He was a scoundrel pure and simple — treacherous, 
stony-hearted and prone to evil. He was worse than his 
mates, because to his wickedness he could add guile and 
some cunning. 

Taking a seat upon a pile of brushwood, he leered at 
Thekla with his solitary eye. Waving his steel hook, he 
exclaimed : 

'‘Thought yer had seen the last of old Cyclops when 
I skipped from them colonial police, eh? Thought I had 
perished in the Black Swamp ? Ho ! ho ! Tm too tough 
a bird to mind little things like fever, an’ ’gators, an’ 
wild beasts. I got fat in that swamp. After I gave that 
nigger of your’n the slip, I ran across a native what had 
killed a mate at the post. He was hiding, too. We 
j’ined forces and made our way down the river. 

“After a time we found Brocky Sinn an’ the crew. It 
did not take us long ter scare up a boat and some weep- 
ons, then we started to look ye up. Ginger, the native, 
knows Quebracho, an’ has heard him tell about that there 
Valley of Gold. He acted as guide for us, an’ here we 


156 Wynne’s Fortunate Discovery. 

are. Yer don’t look tickled with my little story, an’ I 
guess yer bloomin’ face won’t expand with grins of pleas- 
ure when I tell yer what we’re going ter do with yer. 
Take heed an’ listen now, an’ if yer hair don’t curl it’s 


because it is not built that way.” 


CHAPTER XIX. 


CYCLOPS' DIABOLICAL THREAT WYNNE ON THE WAR- 

PATH. 

Cyclops’ implied threat had little effect on Thekla. The 
lad had given up hope the moment the miscreants had 
made their sudden appearance. He knew full well that 
the old sailor would stop at nothing — not even cold- 
blooded murder. His unprovoked assault at the frontier 
post of the colonial police had proved that fact. 

Still it must not be supposed that Thekla intended to 
lie back and permit the scoundrels to work their cruel 
will without some resistance. Never before had life 
seemed so sweet to him. The sun shining through the 
green arches; the smiling face of nature spread out in 
one glowing panorama of loveliness ; the birds singing in 
their leafy bowers overhead; all, all whispered to him of 
the joys and pleasures of life. 

Weak and helpless as he was, the lad resolved to sell 
his life as dearly as possible. It never even occurred to 
him to beg for mercy. That was not his nature. 

The present danger sharpened his wits, dulled by weeks 
of illness. While Cyclops boasted of his success in es- 


153 Cyclops^ Diabolical Threat. 

caping from the Black Swamp, Thekla paid little heed to 
him save in appearance. 

In the nearest tent, Tying upon the couch of boughs he 
had used while ill, was a loaded Winchester rifle. The 
distance from the hammock to the tent was but a step, 
but with unconscious intent, Brocky Sinn had seated him- 
self directly in the way. 

Once in possession of the weapon, Thekla felt that he 
could render a good account of himself. He had no 
hope of escaping, but there would be satisfaction in put- 
ting up a good fight before the end came. 

He lay back in the hammock apparently crushed with 
despair, while the old sailor tauntingly related his plans; 
but from under his half-closed eyelids the lad watched 
every move of the villainous crew. 

'T said yer hair would curl when yer hear what Tm 
going ter do with ye,’^ continued Cyclops, gloatingly, “an’ 
I mean it. In the fust place, ye’ve got ter go with us ter 
that valley — ^that is, after Ginger an’ us kill them niggers 
of yours, an’ the crooked-backed kid named Wynne 
Teeters. Ah, ye winced that time. Kinder like yer 
chum, don’t yer?” 

Thekla nodded weakly. It was part of his plan to 
show submission and meekness of spirit. 

“Well, ye have seen the last of him alive,” went on the 


Cyclops’ Diabolical Threat. 159 

old sailor, brutally. “Ginger has orders ter kill all he 
runs across, an’ I reckon that humpback imp won’t put 
up much of a scrap. I’d like ter have a hand in the bus- 
iness myself.” 

The lad’s blood boiled, and his fingers tingled with an 
overwhelming desire to throttle the old rascal. How he 
longed for just one minute’s possession of the Winches- 
ter! With a supreme effort, he controlled himself. 

“What have we done to cause you to wish for our 
death?” he asked. 

“Everything, lad. Ho! ho! ye are in our way. D’ye 
think we are chumps enuff to divide the gold we expect 
to git among six or seven ? Not much. There will only 
be enuff for,” he lowered his voice and glanced across 
to where Toole and Grogan were still on watch, “only 
enuff for Brocky an’ me. Eh, mate?” 

Captain Sinn looked up and gave a vigorous nod of his 
scarred head. 

“I think you are mistaken,” meekly replied Thekla. 
“I have reason to believe that the valley contains enor- 
mous quantities of gold — sufficient for an army of men.” 

“That don’t cut any ice, youngster. If there was a 
mountain o’ the stuff it wouldn’t be too much for Brocky 
an’ me. No use in arguing — my mind is made up, an’ 


i6o Cyclops’ Diabolical Threat. 

nothing yer kin say will change it. Die yer must. An’ 
that soon.” 

He coolly filled a short black pipe and lighted it with 
evident satisfaction. After a few preliminary puffs, he 
continued : 

'‘This is my plan. We’ll leave to-morrow for the Val- 
ley of Gold, takin’ yer with us. After we mine all the 
dust we kin carry we’ll let yer feast yer eyes on it, then 
blind yer, an’ turn yer loose to th’ buzzards an’ wild 
beasts. How does that strike yer?” 

Thekla stared at the speaker in horror. Was it pos- 
sible he really meant what he said? Could a human be- 
ing be so fiendish, and that without a grain of provoca- 
tion? No, it was a grim joke — a jest made in refinement 
of cruelty. 

“That’s certainly a unique plan,” he said, with a ghost 
of a smile. “It wouldn’t be bad in a story, but ” 

“Ye don’t think I mean it, eh?” savagely exclaimed 
Cyclops, rising to his feet. “I’ll soon show yer. Jes’ ter 
convince ye. I’ll give ye a taste of the lash.” 

He picked up a tough bough and flourished it in the 
air. As he stepped forward to carry out his threat, 
Thekla bounded from the hammock. Brocky Sinn 
spread out his arms to intercept him, but the lad eluded 
his grasp and raced toward the tent. 


Cyclops^ Diabolical Threat. i6i 

"‘Stop him!” roared Cyclops. '‘Head the blasted kid 
off, Brocky.” 

It vyas easier said than done. Thekla’s weakness had 
vanished under the spur of excitement, and he dodged 
past the ex-captain of the Sinbad without much of an 
effort. 

He reached the entrance to the tent in safety, but the 
old sailor — who was remarkably spry on his feet — was 
close at his heels. As Thekla darted into the interior a 
shrill cry of agony came from the brush, then one of the 
sailors on guard — Grogan — staggered into the clearing. 

He attempted to speak, but the words failed him. 
Clutching at the empty air, he spun around, then fell full 
length upon the greensward. 

^ ^ ^ ^ 

In the meantime, while the stirring events just chron- 
icled were taking place, how had Wynne fared? It will 
be remembered that, after his discovery of Cyclops and 
his crew in the camp, he had started off in search of Que- 
bracho and the other natives. 

At the same time Ginger, Cyclops’ native ally, had 
taken the trail in obedience to the old sailor’s command. 

Neither knew of the other’s quest, and it was destined 


i 62 Cyclops’ Diabolical Threat. 

that they should travel in almost parallel directions for the 
first mile. Then Wynne, who was rather shaky in his 
knowledge of woodcraft, became confused and lost his 
bearings. 

He swung to the right, and in hastening along caught 
sight of a man creeping through the woods not a dozen 
yards in advance. The lad’s first inclination was to call 
out, but he recognized that the fellow was a stranger in 
time to check himself. 

Then when he saw that it was a native armed with a 
businesslike bow and arrow, he almost dropped with 
fright. Only the knowledge that his chum was in deadly 
peril prevented him from beating a hasty retreat. 

‘Don’t be a confounded coward, Wynne Teeters,” he 
muttered, trying hard to keep his teeth from chattering. 
“Remember what is depending on you. Perhaps that 
fellow belongs to Cyclops’ gang. Maybe he is looking 
for the rest of us.” 

The thought caused him to close his teeth with a de- 
termined snap. Under the stress of excitement, his fears 
vanished. Cocking his revolver, he hurried forward. 

Wynne had never shot a human being in his life, but 
he resolved to add that rather questionable exploit to his 
experience. With misgpided judgment, he intended to 


Cyclops^ Diabolical Threat. 163 

first prove that the native in front of him was an enemy, 
however. 

Gaining an easy distance, he aimed directly at the un- 
suspecting Indian’s head, and called out in a shrill voice : 
‘'Hi, you ! where are you going ?” 


CHAPTER XX. 


THE SONG OF THE BLOWPIPE. 

Ginger wheeled like a flash. He half raised his bow, , 
with its poisoned arrow, then his arms dropped. The ap- 
pearance of the revolver’s muzzle, with the pale, deter- 
mined face behind it, was warning enough. 

“Where are you going?” repeated Wynne, sternly. 

“Hello, white boy,” replied Ginger, with a conciliatory 
grin. “Where you come from, eh?” 

His English, learned by long association with the colo- 
nial police, was good, and his manner affable. He real- 
ized that he had, by some strange misadventure, placed 
himself in the power of one of those whom he was seek- 
ing, and he knew that only by the exercise , of extreme 
cunning could he hope to extricate himself. 

“Who are you?” asked the little hunchback, steadying 
the muzzle of his revolver. 

“I am Carib Indian, and my name it Woloi,” replied 
Ginger, taking a step forward. “I come here with white 
men explorers. They back there” — he pointed away 
from the camp, “and I been to river to see if boat with 
stores come yet. What for you point pistol at me?” 


The Song of the Blowpipe. 165 

''Explorers up here ?” asked Wynne, unheeding the last 
question. 

“Yes. They small party of five men.” 

Wynne felt greatly disturbed. The Indian’s bearing 
was sincere, and his news, if true, of great importance. 
The lads had come to look upon the Valley of Death, 
with its reputed horde of gold, as their personal prop- 
erty. The finding of the cryptogram seemed to Wynne 
especially a sort of title deed to the place, and the in- 
formation that a party of white explorers was in the 
vicinity came as a shock. 

The Indian’s story was certainly plausible. He told 
it well, anyway, and the little hunchback was inclined to 
believe him. He was still suspicious, however, so he kept 
his revolver at the proper level, and showed a disposition 
to parley. 

“You say that you have been to the river?” he asked. 

“Yes.” 

“What part?” 

“Down there,” replied Ginger, pointing to the left. 

As he spoke, he took another slight step in the lad’s 
direction. 

“Did you see anything of a camp containing a boy 
about my age, and several rascally men, one rather an old 
fellow, with one eye and a hook?” 


1 66 The Song of the Blowpipe. 

It was Ginger’s turn to be surprised. He controlled 
his emotions better than Wynne, however. He knew 
now that his companion had discovered the presence of 
Cyclops’ crew in the camp, and it behooved him to put 
the lad out of the way before he could give the alarm. 

“I see no camp,” he replied. “Maybe it at head of big 
crack in cliff?” 

“Yes, that’s the place, and it seems to me that it is 
about the only spot where this plateau can be reached 
from the river. It is strange you didn’t see the tents. 
They are right at the edge of the bluff. Where are these 
explorers located?” 

It was a question Ginger had been longing for. He 
had his plan laid, and he lost no time in trying it. Raising 
his bow, he pointed it beyond Wynne’s left shoulder. 

“It over there,” he said. “Ah, you can see man from 
here.” 

Completely off his guard, the little hunchback turned 
to look in the direction indicated. There was a sharp 
twang of a bowstring, a shrill whistling sound, then an 
arrow hustled past him, barely missing his head. 

As he staggered back in affright, he heard a dreadful 
shriek, and his companion fell groveling in the grass at 
his feet. Before Wynne could recover from his con- 


The Song of the Blowpipe. 167 

sternation a bush crackled nearby, and Quebracho 
bounded into view. 

“Where the rest?” asked the Indian, hurriedly. “You 
see any more?” 

“Gee-whiz!” gasped Wynne. “What ” 

“Quick! any more like him here?” 

“No. He is the only one I have seen. Did you kill 
him. Quebracho?” 

The native held up a blowpipe and nodded. A silent 
dart from the formidable instrument had cut short the 
evil career of the renegade Ginger. The two other In- 
dians appeared in view, one bearing Quebracho’s rifle. 

“It good thing I come along,” exclaimed the latter^ 
grimly. “I know that dog. He evil man. He killed 
friend at post, and run away to Black Swamp. When I 
see you with him I know best kill him right away. I 
shoot with blowpipe just as he pull string of bow. He 
miss you, but I no miss him. What you do here ? Where 
you meet him?” 

The question recalled to Wynne his discovery at the 
camp. Bitterly regretting the delay his meeting with 
Ginger had caused, he lost no time in acquainting Que- 
bracho with the facts in the case. 

Before he had concluded the Indian was hurrying in 
the direction of the camp with his arm linked in one of 


1 68 The Song of the Blowpipe. 

Wynne’s. On reaching the vicinity the utmost caution 
was observed. Quebracho crept ahead, and the rest fol- 
lowed him at an easy distance. 

Presently Wynne saw the Indian straighten up, there 
was a faint whistling sound, then a cry similar to that 
uttered by Ginger came to his ears. The death-dealing 
blowpipe had again spoken. 

Running forward, the little hunchback caught sight of 
the camp. In the center of the clearing, lying quite still 
and evidently lifeless, was the sailor, Grogan. Beyond 
him, and near the first tent, were Cyclops and Brocky 
Sinn. 

The former was glaring about him with his massive 
head thrown back and his solitary eye gleaming with 
rage. He held a broken branch of a tree in his right 
hand, but he quickly dropped that and drew his revolver. 

Brocky was already armed, but the extreme pallor of 
his scared face indicated that the sudden death of the 
sailor had stricken him with fear. The other guard, 
Toole, came running into view. 

“We are attacked !” he shouted, hoarsely. “Them 
divils ” 

The words died away in a gasp of agony. Clutching 
wildly at his breast, he staggered back and fell full 
length across the body of his mate. Not a sound had 


The Seng of the Blowpipe. 169 

reached the ears of Cyclops and Brocky, but they knew 
well whence the winged messenger of death had come. 

Both were brave m^n in their way: either would have 
fought gallantly with visible foes, but their spirit gave 
way before this terrible method of warfare. A panic 
seized them. Turning, they fled to the upper end of the 
crevice. 

Not stopping to glance back, both men scrambled from 
sight down the steep descent. 

A moment later Quebracho entered the clearing, his 
grim face showing his appreciation of the situation. 

While he and the other natives hastened in pursuit of 
the fugitives, Wynne ran to the tents. In the large one 
he found Thekla lying prone upon the floor in a deep 
swoon. The excitement of the attack and the unwonted 
exertion had, in his weak state, reacted upon the lad. 

A liberal application of water speedily revived him, but 
it was some minutes before Thekla could understand he 
was safe with his friends. Presently Quebracho returned 
with the intelligence that Cyclops and Brocky Sinn had 
made their escape in the boat. 

“They row down river like everything,” added the In- 
dian, with a smile. “They no come back, I think. They 
got enough of us. They lose two white men and one 
bad native.” 


170 The Song of the Blowpipe. 

“It’s a pity it wasn’t the chief rogues,” sniffed Wynne. 
“They deserved death more than the sailors.” 

“It was certainly a narrow escape for me,” spoke up 
Thekla. “I tell you, when I looked up and saw the faces 
of those scoundrels grinning at me I thought my time 
had come. Cyclops is the greatest villain on earth.” 

“Found it out at last, eh?” chuckled the little hunch- 
back. 

“Yes, I have found it out at last. What do you think 
he intended to do with me?” 

“Nothing pleasant. I’ll wager.” 

“He said he would take me with the party until the 
gold was discovered. Then, after I had feasted my eyes 
on it, I was to be blinded and turned over to the mercies 
of the vultures and wild beasts.” 

Quebracho uttered a guttural exclamation of rage. 

“I make him remember that if he ever meet me again,” 
he said. “Maybe the time come when I can settle him for 
you.” 

“When you do just put in a couple of licks for me,” 
spoke up Wynne. 

The bodies of the two sailors were buried a short dis- 
tance from camp. After a stay of five days to enable 
Thekla to regain his strength, the party packed up and 
resumed the journey toward the Valley of Mystery. 


The Song of the Blowpipe. 171 

At the lad’s earnest request, Quebracho and his com- 
panions accompanied them to the opposite edge of the ex- 
tensive plateau. Beyond that the Indians would not 
step. 

Where they concluded to await the return of Thekla 
and Wynne was at the base of a lofty mountain, whose 
summit gleamed white with perennial snow. In the 
shade of a cluster of oak trees the natives pitched the 
tents and prepared for a period of inactivity. 

Up to the last moment Quebracho pleaded with the 
boys to give up their journey, but they turned a deaf ear 
to him. That noon, directly after the midday meal, they 
shouldered their share of the stores and set forth upon 
their momentous quest. 

The Indian watched them pass from sight beyond a 
spur of barren rock, then he rejoined his companions 
with something very like moisture upon his dusky cheek. 

^‘Alas ! alas !” he muttered, in his native tongue, ‘T fear 
me they go to their death.” 

No such depressing thought occupied the minds of 
Thekla and Wynne. The knowledge that they were at 
last nearing the valley of the wonderful cryptogram filled 
them with joy. 

They conversed cheerily as they picked their way over 
the rough ground, and many were the rose-colored plans 


172 The Song of the Blowpipe. 

they laid in the gladness of their youthful hearts. An 
all-wise Providence has ordained that we shall not be 
permitted to pierce the veil of the future. If that power 
had been granted to Thekla and Wynne, would they have 
proceeded so confidently? 


CHAPTER XXL 


THE VALLEY OF MYSTERY. 

By Quebracho’s advice, the boys directed their way 
toward a mountain peak clearly visible from the edge of 
the plateau. From the summit it would be impossible to 
examine the surrounding country for a considerable dis- 
tance. By that means the valley itself might be located. 

It was late in the afternoon when Thekla and Wynne, 
sore of foot and almost exhausted, reached the extreme 
top of the elevation. They threw down their burdens and 
Seated themselves, then they looked with awe at the vivid 
panorama spread out at their feet. 

Behind them stretched the familiar plateau, with its 
silvery thread of a river gleaming in the distance, but on 
the other side of the peak was a wilderness of bleak, bar- 
ren ridges, of glittering rocks, of snow-clad summits, 
soaring one above another as far as the eye could reach. 

To the right there was a break in this monotony. 
Seemingly at the very base of the mountain upon which 
the boys stood was a valley of a most singular character. 

It was oblong in shape, and, instead of being bounded 
by sloping declivities, it was closed in by precipitous 


174 The Valley of Mystery. 

cliffs, whose sides of some grayish rock seemed hundreds 
of feet in height. 

The bottom of the valley showed bright green in the 
waning light, indicating the presence of luxuriant vege- 
tation. Far in the distance loomed a most peculiar ob- 
ject. It was apparently a stupendous tower, but whether 
natural or artificial, the boys could not tell. 

It rose sheer from the valley to a distance of not less 
than one thousand feet and was almost a perfect cone in 
shape. A number of minute black specks crawling 
around the bottom attracted Thekla’s attention. 

Excitedly uncovering a powerful glass he had brought 
from New York, he leveled the instrument. A cry burst 
from his lips: 

'‘Wynne, they are living human beings. Look! there 
are hundreds of them.” 

The little hunchback snatched the glass from his com- 
panion’s hands, took one rapid glance, then he turned 
and said, with blanched face : 

“It’s the Valley of Mystery, chum. And there are 
people in it already!” 

“I believe you are right. It must be the valley, but 
who can those persons be? They are not explorers — 
there are too many of them for that.” 


The Valley of Mystery. 175 

A sudden thought struck the lad. Taking the glass, 
he looked long and earnestly at the groups swarming in 
front of the singularly shaped tower. He saw that there 
was some method in their movement. They seemed to 
be marching with a preconcerted plan. 

With some effort, he made out a faint line running 
around the base of the cone apparently a considerable dis^ 
tance above the ground. Focusing the glass, he dis- 
cerned another line just above the first, and then another. 

Suddenly the sun, which had been partially hidden be- 
hind a bank of clouds, burst forth, sending a ray of light 
upon the side of the tower. It revealed to Thekla a num- 
ber of spots in the sides of the cone — spots which were 
evidently doors or entrances to the interior. 

“Wynne Teeters,” he exclaimed, agape with astonish- 
ment, “that thing is a house.” , 

’“A house?” 

“Yes, and those people are natives.” 

“Impossible ! Why, the place is called the Valley of 
Death. How could people live there?” 

“You see them, don’t you?” 

Wynne could not gainsay that fact, so he contented 
himself with' uttering his favorite ejaculation. After an- 


176 The Valley of Mystery. 

other long scrutiny, Thekla lowered the glass. As he 
closed the instrument, he said, emphatically : 

“There is no doubt in my mind, chum, that it is the 
valley we are seeking. It is the only one in sight from 
here, and we can see for miles and miles. The fact that 
it is inhabited don’t amount to anything. Why shouldn’t 
it contain people ? It seems fertile enough to support any 
number of tribes.” 

“But how do they get in and out?” 

“Possibly they do not wish to leave the place.” 

Wynne glanced at the perpendicular cliffs, and said, 
meaningly : 

“Perhaps they can’t.” 

“Then you think ” 

“That it is entirely closed in. Why, look at those 
sides. Nothing but a bird could scale them. That is the 
reason the writer of that cryptogram launched it in a 
bundle of roots. Gee-whiz ! what a terrible place. Are 
you going to trust yourself in there?” 

“Most assuredly.” 

“Just you and me?” 

“No ; we could not expect to do much alone. I intend 
to bring Quebracho and his companions up here. The 
sight of those natives should * dispel their superstitious 


The Valley of Mystery. 177 

fears. Come, it is getting late. We must return to the 
camp.” 

After another lingering look at the mysterious valley, 
the boys started down the mountainside. Darkness 
overtook them before the plateau was reached, so they 
camped for the night in the lee of a huge bowlder, which 
some Titanic convulsion had upreared near a deep 
crevasse. 

Spreading their blankets upon the ground, they re- 
tired, but not to sleep. The developments of the after- 
noon had been of too exciting a nature to permit of early 
slumber. 

Often had the boys pictured to themselves the Valley 
of Mystery, but their wildest flights of fancy were as 
nothing compared to the reality. Neither had even 
dreamed that the place would be found inhabited. The 
discovery materially altered Thekla’s rather vague plans. 

“Wynne, I confess I don’t like the look of things,” he 
said, after a period of silence. “It has never struck me 
that we would find a lot of Indians in the valley. It’s 
probably queer, but I’ve always regarded the place as a 
desolate, God-forsaken hole filled with botanical speci- 
mens and such things.” 

“And I’ve been picturing it as a pit filled with eternal 


iy8 The Valley of Mystery. 

fires and death’s-heads and snakes and hobgoblins,” con- 
fessed the little hunchback, with a jiervous chuckle. 

“It alters my plans considerably. We can't enter it 
alone, and even if we manage to persuade Quebracho and 
his mates to accompany us we wouldn’t amount to a drop 
in the bucket with all those natives.” 

“Let’s give it up,” suggested Wynne, timidly. 

“No, I won’t do that.” 

“But ” 

Thekla turned upon his chum almost angrily. 

“Now, do not argue the question, Wynne,” he ex- 
claimed. “I realize the danger and difficulties before us, 
but I just can’t give it up now that we have traveled all 
this distance. And think of the disappointment if we 
fail to secure the gold?” 

“It won’t do us much good if we lose our lives,” was 
the little hunchback’s sage reply. 

“We will have to take chances. I am anxious to get 
Quebracho’s views on the subject. He has lots of com- 
mon sense even if he is an Indian. We must start at 
daybreak, so go to sleep.” 

As soon as it was light enough to see their way the 
boys set out for the camp. The ground was rough and 
much cut up with little fissures and ridges, and the sun 


The Valley of Mystery. 179 

was high in the heavens when they finally arrived in 
sight of the cluster of oaks. 

To their unbounded surprise, they saw that the tents 
were gone. Greatly alarmed, the boys raced to the spot, 
only to have their worst fears realized. The tents, the 
stores, and the Indians had disappeared! 


CHAPTER XXII. 


QUEBRACHO CHANGES HIS MIND. 

Thekla and Wynne stared in dismay at the spot where 
the tents had been pitched. The former rubbed his eyes 
as if hardly believing their testimony. “Gone !” he ex- 
claimed. “Great Scott! what has happened?” 

The little hunchback’s face had blanched. He glanced 
fearfully around as if expecting an attack from some su- 
pernatural object. Grasping Thekla’s arm, he said, in an 
awed whisper: 

“Perhaps they — they have been carried off, chum. 
Maybe those demons in that Valley of Mystery have ” 

“Nonsense !” impatiently exclaimed the young botanist. 
“The fact of the matter is Quebracho has basely deserted 
us. His superstitious fears have gotten the better of 
him, and he is probably even now on his way home.”. 

“We couldn’t do better than follow his example. I’m 
thinking,” ventured Wynne. “This is no place for us.” 

Ignoring the pointed suggestion, Thekla carefully 
searched the vicinity for possible clews. Catching sight 
of several footprints in a bit of moist ground, he fol- 


Quebracho Changes His Mind. i8i 

lowed them through the grove to a huge mass of rock 
almost completely covered with vines and leafy creepers. 

At one place the tangled green curtain looked as if it 
had been recently disturbed. Tearing it aside, Thekla 
and Wynne saw a miniature cave. Almost filling the 
little aperture were several familiar bundles. 

''Gee-whiz!” cried the hunchback, “ril be blessed if it 
ain’t the tents and things.” 

It did not take Thekla long to drag the objects into 
the light. Wynne had spoken truly. The two canvas 
tents and the half dozen packages of stores were before 
them. But where were the Indians? 

"The mystery deepens,” exclaimed the young botanist. 
"This does not look as if Quebracho has deserted us, after 
all. But where in the deuce can he be?” 

"The best thing to do is to go back to where the camp 
was located and wait until they turn up. Probably they 
went hunting.” 

As the suggestion could not be improved, Thekla 
adopted it. The articles were restored to their hiding 
place, then the boys returned to the other side of the little 
grove. As they left the shelter of the trees, Wynne, 
who was slightly in advance, gave a sudden whoop of 
joy. 

"Gee-whiz ! hurrah ! there they are now.'’ 


1 82 Quebracho Changes His Mind. 

Coming down the sloping side of a nearby elevation 
were Quebracho and his two companions. The former 
waved his hand on seeing the lads. Thekla and Wynne 
hurried out to meet them. 

“Where under the sun have you been?” shouted the 
3^oung botanist when he arrived within hearing distance. 
“Do you know we thought you had gone home?” 

The Indian gave him a reproachful glance. 

“I sorry to hear that,” he said, rather proudly. “You 
think I desert you, eh? Have I acted like that since you 
know me?” 

-No, but ” 

Thekla paused and held out his hand with boyish 
frankness. 

“Forgive me. Quebracho,” he continued. “I sincerely 
apologize for doubting you. I might have known you 
would not forsake us. But tell me where you have been ; 
why did you break up camp?” 

The Indian threw himself down upon the grass and 
rested for a moment before he replied. From his ap- 
pearance of exhaustion it was evident he had traveled 
far that morning. There was something in the expres- 
sion of his face which indicated that he had important 
news. 

“When you go yesterday,” he finally began, “Quebra- 


Quebraclio Changes His Mind. 183 

cho think plenty. He feel ashamed that he afraid to go 
where two white boys lead. Bimeby he say to his men : 
‘We Caribs. We live in this country, and we fight wild 
beasts and plenty men. Yet when two little men come 
down here from white people’s country and want to go to 
Valley of Mystery, we say we afraid. Then they go 
alone. Ugh!”’ 

He turned his face away and glanced up at the snow- 
crowned summit of the distant mountain range. Thekla 
would have spoken, but Quebracho held up his hand. 

“Wait; I no finish. When you gone five — six hours, 
I clap my hands — so; then I put tents and stores away 
in little cave. Then I say to my men : ‘Come, we follow 
white boys to top of mountain and see what they see.’ 
So we go, but no find you. You must take long path, 
eh?” 

“Then you have r’eally been up there?” eagerly asked 
the young botanist. 

Quebracho nodded proudly. 

“And you saw the valley?” 

“Yes, and plenty people in it. It no like I think. Them 
natives in there, and they got funny house shaped like 
this.” 

He took a twig and traced a cone in the dirt. It was 
plainly evident he had seen with the naked eye what the 


184 Quebracho Changes His Mind. 

boys had discovered only with the aid of the powerful 
glass. 

Thekla could hardly conceal his delight at this unex- 
pected turn in affairs. He had anticipated considerable 
trouble in persuading Quebracho to even visit the top of 
the peak. Now that rather peculiar individual had actu- 
ally gone of his own accord — by his own confession, 
shamed into it. 

The boys 'secretly exchanged glances of congratulation. 

'T am awfully glad you went up there, Quebracho,” 
said the young botanist, diplomatically. “I wanted you 
to see the place ; that is the reason we hurried back here. 
Now what do you think of the valley?” 

The Indian made a gesture of disdain. 

“It same as others. It valley and have grass and 
plants and people like others I know. Humph ! if I have 
my tribe I go down there and clean ’em out.” 

“You feel assured that it is the Valley of Mystery?” 

“Yes; there no others round here. I no know how 
my father get scarred and blinded without them people 
do it. I like to kill them all for it.” 

“And I would like to help you. It would take too 
long, though, to go back and get your bribe. We can’t 
waste the time. I have told you before that I expect to 
find a white man — an American — in there. Probably it 


Quebracho Changes His Mind. 185 

is the same explorer that entered the place with your 
father.’' 

Quebracho bounded to his feet with an exclamation of 
surprise. 

“It no possible,” he said. “That seven — eight years 
ago.” 

“Even so. If the explorer was captured by those na- 
tives and kept by them, there isn’t any reason he should 
not be living still. No, the more I think of it the greater 
is my belief that he is the writer of the cryptogram.” 

“We go see,” came in emphatic tones from the In- 
dian. “I no afraid now. I go with you. Come.” 

He ran through the grove toward the mass of rocks. 
Highly delighted at his decision, Thekla and Wynne fol- 
lowed him to the spot where the tents had been deposited. 
Ten minutes later the little party, burdened with the 
camping outfit, left the cluster of oaks en route for the 
Valley of Mystery. 

Quebracho had taken bearings while at the summit of 
the peak, so he had a general idea as to the best path. 
Skirting the base of the mountain, the travelers presently 
found themselves at the beginning of an extensive plain 
which seemed to stretch to the very edge of the valley. 

It was a wild, treeless moor with an outline of hills on 
two sides. It seemed to be broken into humps and hill- 


1 86 Quebracho Changes His Mind. 

ocks with here and there a stagnant pool, doubtless ten- 
anted with venomous snakes. 

There was a strong smell of sulphur in the air — a taint 
like the breath from the infernal regions. In places faint 
clouds of steam arose proclaiming the presence of vol- 
canic fissures. The ground was covered with leafless 
shrubs as dry as the sagebrush of the American desert. 

There was a peculiar color to the earth — a yellowish 
hue which sparkled in the sun’s rays like incrusted gold. 
Wynne ran forward and picked up a clod. He instantly 
dropped it, however. 

“Faugh ! it is nothing but rank sulphur,” he exclaimed, 
in disgust. 

Before entering upon this part of the journey the party 
kindled a fire and cooked their dinner. After a hearty 
meal the aspect did not seem so gloomy. The trip was 
again resumed. 

Three hours later the two lads and their Indian com- 
panions, thickly covered with a yellowish dust, and com- 
pletely exhausted, staggered to the edge of a cliff and 
looked down, down to where, fully seven hundred feet 
below, gleamed the bright green grass and dense tropical 
vegetation of the Valley of Mystery. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 


THE PARACHUTE COMPANY OF VENEZUELA (LIMITED). 

“Gee-whiz! How in the name of all that’s wonderful 
are we going to get down there?” came from Wynne 
Teeters, as he measured the stupendous cliff with his eye. 

It was a question that struck his companions with equal 
forc^. They were in sight of their destination, but it 
was apparently as far from them as if they had never left 
the Mazaruni River. 

The sides of the cliff extended sheer down without a 
ledge, or break to the bottom. There was not even a 
foothold for a bird. The glistening rock was as smooth 
as glass, and no doubt as slippery. 

Quebracho shook his head with evident conviction. 

“We no get down there,” he said, in his deep voice. 
Then he added, with a ghost of a smile : “Without we 
fall down. And I no care do that just now.” 

Thekla had thrown himself upon his breast close to 
the edge of the precipice. He called all his energies into 
play and thought out plan after plan. He knew that a 
rope of twisted vines could be constructed, but it would 


i88 The Parachute Company. 

take days of steady labor. And delay was what he 
wished to avoid. 

“Confound it! if we only had a long rope ladder, or 
even a balloon. The latter would answer the purpose 
fairly well, and it would serve to scare those natives. 
Now, if we could construct ” 

He was upon his feet in a twinkling. Running to 
Wynne, he embraced that astounded youth, then at- 
tempted to shake hands with Quebracho. 

“Hurrah ! I have it !” he exclaimed, tossing his cap in 
the air. “I have it. Whoop!” 

“What is the matter with you ? Are you crazy ?” asked 
the little hunchback. 

“Crazy? No. But I have thought of a dandy scheme 
for getting into the valley.” 

“What is it?” asked Wynne, with interest. 

“See those tents?” 

“Yes.” 

“Do you know what a parachute is?” 

“Yes; but you don’t ” 

“We’ll convert the two tents into a parachute, and drop 
into the valley. What’s the matter with that, eh? If 
people can drop from the clouds, why can’t we do the 
same act down the cliffs?” 

Wynne’s face lengthened. It was evident the project 


The Parachute Company. 189 

was not to his liking. Quebracho looked from one to 
the other as if undecided whether they were joking or not. 
He understood only part of Thekla’s suggestion, and that 
was that the tents were to be used as means of reaching 
the bottom of the Valley of Mystery. 

“What you talk about?” he asked, curiously. 

The young botanist proceeded to explain as best he 
could. He took a handkerchief and fashioned a minia- 
ture parachute with the aid of it and several pieces of 
string. Weighting it with a stone, he dropped the model 
from the top of the precipice. 

All watched the tiny object fall swiftly until the air 
caught under the folds, then, to the amazement of the 
three Indians, it dropped gracefully and with scarcely a 
flutter to the bottom of the valley. 

“Now you see what I mean,” said Thekla, triumph- 
antly. “With the canvas and ropes of the tents we can 
make one sufficiently strong to hold three of us.” 

“Three of us?” echoed Wynne. 

“Yes. It is part of my plan to leave the two natives 
up here.” 

“Why?” 

“To collect grass and vines and construct a rope 
ladder.” 

“Oh, I was just going to ask whether you intend to 


190 The Parachute Company. 

drop up again with the parachute,” exclaimed the little 
hunchback, with a dry chuckle. 

^‘Thekla Morse,” he added, ‘‘you surely do not think 
I will trust my life to a homemade parachute?” 

“If you want to come with us you will. Now, don’t 
get funked, chum; you know perfectly well I would not 
advocate the scheme if it was very dangerous. People 
drop from parachutes hundreds of times each year, and 
seldom meet with an accident.” 

“But suppose the thing won’t open?” 

Thekla turned away in disgust. Work was com- 
menced under his directions, and in the course of an hour 
the tents were ripped apart. Twine and sail needles had 
been brought for repairing purposes, and with these the 
strips of canvas were shaped after the plan of a para- 
chute. 

The task was not completed until late in the after- 
noon, so the grand attempt was postponed until the fol- 
lowing morning. From where the party had halted the 
peculiar cone-shaped house of the mysterious natives was 
not visible owing to a slight bend in the walls of the 
valley. 

That part of the ravine exposed to view contained noth- 
ing to indicate that it was different from others. The 
bottom was covered with a thick carpet of green grass 


The Parachute Company. 19 1 

interspersed with brush and stunted trees. There was no 
sign of cultivation, nor, as far as the boys could see, any 
roads or paths. 

Thekla spent the remaining hours of daylight in exam- 
ining the valley with his glass. He was eager to explore 
the place and to inspect its flora. 

Since their departure from the frontier post of the co- 
lonial police, incidents had succeeded incidents so rap- 
idly that he had found little time to indulge his love of 
botany. 

He had made a meager collection of rare plants, but he 
hoped to augment it on re'aching the valley. He also in- 
tended to secure a perfect specimen of the ‘plant of gold.’ 

That evening the party dined on cold provision, as it 
was not deemed wise to light a fire in their present 
location. 

“Now,” said Thekla, as he stretched himself out at the 
conclusion of the meal, “we must arrange all details as to 
the making of the rope ladder to-night. We will not 
have time to-morrow morning, as I want to make the 
descent at daybreak.” 

Wynne glanced at the heap of canvas forming the para- 
chute, and shivered. In his timid soul he dreaded the 
attempt more than words could tell. But he was willing 
to follow his chum no matter what happened. 


192 The Parachute Con^any. 

“Quebracho, how long will it take your men to make 
the ladder ?’’ asked the young botanist. 

“Plenty days,” was the terse reply. 

“But how many?” 

“They must go back to plateau for grass and vines. 
It long rope, and take plenty trips. Maybe two weeks.” 

“Whew ! as long as that ? Why, I thought they could 
do it in three or four days at the most.” 

The Indian laughed. 

“They only have two hands each,” he replied. “It big 
job to make rope seven hundred feet long. They only 
make fifty — sixty feet a day.” 

“Speaking of hands reminds me of that old villain, 
Cyclops McGinnis,” remarked Wynne. “Do you think 
he has sneaked for good?” 

“It is hard to say,” replied Thekla, carelessly. “He 
and that tea store chromo, Brocky Sinn, may be lurking 
in the vicinity, but I am inclined to believe that they are 
hitting only high places getting back to Georgetown. 
That blowpipe of Quebracho’s put the fear of death in 
their black hearts.” 

“If you like we look around before we go down cliff,” 
suggested Quebracho. “Maybe them bad men follow 
us, after all.” 

“If they have I guess your natives can take care of 


The Parachute Company. 193 

them,” replied Thekla, indifferently. “No, we’ll make 
the start at daybreak.” 

“What do you intend to do when we reach the valley ?” 
asked Wynne. “You surely do not think the three of us 
can whip that whole tribe?” 

“Not with our fists, dear boy,” replied Thekla, cheerily. 
“But I hope to impress them with our firearms. I am 
building on the expectation that they have never heard 
the report of a rifle or revolver. We have three of the 
former and four of the latter, and also plenty of am- 
munition. I am willing to wager a ton of gold that the 
natives will think we are gods or something of that kind.” 

“It’ll be all day with us if they don’t,” grumbled the 
little hunchback. 

At the first signs of day the party was up and about 
preparing for the first parachute descent ever made in 
the highlands of Venezuela. The trunk of a stout tree 
denuded of its branches had been thrust out over the cliff, 
its base being weighted with a huge pile of stone and 
earth. 

From the outer end the canvas parachute hung limp 
and apparently shapeless. A strong branch fashioned 
like an ordinary trapeze swung from the ropes. It was 
to this the three were to trust their fortunes — and necks. 

Shortly before the time set for the drop Quebracho re- 


194 Parachute Company. 

tired a short distance from his companions and set up a 
most lugubrious chanting. Thekla and Wynne watched 
him in surprise for a moment, then the latter said, nerv- 
ously : 

“ril bet a dollar it’s the death song of his tribe, chum. 
He is not a fool, and he knows full well this thing is 
dangerous.” 

“That only proves that he is a brave man,” replied 
Thekla, grimly. “His belief in the peril does not deter 
him from making the attempt. Come ; it’s time to start.” 

Poor Wynne followed his friend with the air of a man 
going to his doom. Together with Thekla and Quebra- 
cho, he crawled out over the log and lowered himself 
down to the trapeze. 

One of the natives followed them to the end of the 
supporting timber and, at a signal from the young bot- 
anist, prepared to cut the rope from which the apparatus 
was suspended. 

“Ready?” called out Thekla. 

The Indian nodded. 

“Hold fast now. One, two, three; let her go!” 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

. DISCOVERED ! 

To the end of their days will the memory of that ter- 
rible experience be prominent to Thekla and Wynne and 
Quebracho. With commendable forethought, the young 
botanist had fastened a stout rope around his companions 
and himself. 

It was to that alone they owed their lives. 

When the Indian’s keen knife several the retaining rope 
the heavy canvas parachute, with its weight of more than 
four hundred and fifty pounds, dropped like a shot down 
the face of the cliff. 

A cry came from the little hunchback — a cry of deadly 
fear stifled in its utterance — then there was a period of 
intense suffocation brought tO' a sudden ending by a jerk 
which almost forced them from the stout tapeze. 

The suffocation had been caused by the incredibly 
swift descent; the sudden jerk from the opening of the 
parachute. A sheer fall of one hundred feet had resulted 
before the air at last filled the canvas folds. 

With head reeling and breath almost gone, Thekla 
glanced upward to see just above his head the graceful 


196 Discovered ! 

curves of the apparatus. It was doing its duty most 
nobly and the taut canvas actually glistened white in the 
rays of the sun. 

The lad turned to Wynne. One look told him that the lit- 
tle hunchback was unconscious. He had swooned under 
stress of terror and excitement. Quebracho’s face was 
almost livid, and the features were rigid. The hand with 
which he grasped the trapeze was bloodless, the nails 
sinking deep into the wood. 

The subsequent moments passed like the swift moving 
panorama of a dream, and finally the three aerial voy- 
agers were gently dropped into a mass of tall, tropical 
grass. The canvas folds settled about them, but Thekla 
and Quebracho — ^the latter having speedily recovered 
from his fright — easily cast it aside. 

It did not take long to revive Wynne. But it required 
some time to convince him that he was really in the Val- 
ley of Mystery and, not in the Valley of the Shadow of 
Death. 

When Thekla and his companions glanced up the glis- 
tening sides of the precipice and saw how far they had 
really fallen in the frail parachute, they shuddered. The 
Indian voiced the sentiments of all when he exclaimed in 
his characteristic manner : 

“Ugh ! I no do that again for everything on earth.” 


Discovered ! 


197 

Away up at the top, projected out from the edge of the 
cliff, was the tree trunk, seeming no larger in the distance 
than a lead pencil. . A fluttering cloth indicated the 
presence of the two natives who had been left behind. 

Quebracho and the boys waved their hands to indicate 
that they had reached ground in safety, then they con- 
cealed the parachute behind a thick, leafy bush as a mat- 
ter of precaution. 

“We may not need it again,” said Thekla; “but we 
might as well hide the thing.” 

“There’s no telling just what will turn up,” remarked 
Wynne, with his accustomed shrewdness. He added, 
with a grim chuckle : “There is only one certainty in 
my mind.” 

“What’s that?” 

“All the powers on earth can’t get me into a parachute 
again, that’s all.” 

“I don’t know but that I agree with you, old fellow. 
Whew ! that was an experience.” 

After seeing to their weapons they started off down 
the center of the valley, which at that end appeared to be 
not more than a thousand yards in width. Thekla had 
not gone far before he espied something in the grass 
close to a peculiarly shaped bush that sent him upon his 
knees in a jiffy. 


198 


Discovered 1 


He was up again instantly, clutching in his hands a 
number of broad serrated leaves of a dead-gold color. 
Among them was a large, round bulb of the same hue 
and with a circle of slender spikes surrounding the base. 
Holding it high in the air, the young botanist cried, ex- 
ultantly : 

“The 'plant of gold !’ Hurrah ! hurrah ! I have found 
it at last.” 

Wynne was not less excited. He ran to his chum’s 
side and eagerly felt of the leaves. 

“Gee- whiz ! is it really the 'plant of gold ?’ ” he asked, 
incredulously. 

“Yes; there’s no doubt of it.” 

“One, two, four, six, seven, ten; gee-whiz, there are 
ten leaves ! At twelve hundred dollars a leaf, that means 
twelve thousand dollars. Gee-whiz! that’s a fortune al- 
ready, chum. And the plant ; what would collectors give 
for that?” 

Thekla laughed. 

''You mercenary little wretch. Everything you see is 
valued at so many dollars. Think these leaves would be 
worth twelve hundred apiece, eh? I rather believe not. 
The unloading of ten leaves upon the market would send 
the price down in no time. You must know that such 
values depend on the supply. It is only the rarity of 


Discovered ! 


199 


specimens that make them worth anything. If diamonds 
were as plentiful as lumps of coal, you couldn’t sell them 
for a dollar a ton.” 

Wynne was disconsolate until he remembered that, ac- 
cording to report, the presence of the plant indicated 
enormous deposits of gold. He saw the yellow-hued 
leaves on all sides, and he would have commenced dig- 
ging then and there if Thekla had not objected. 

“Plenty of time for that after we solve the mystery of 
this valley, chum,” said the young botanist. 

Looking to their weapons, they started toward the bend 
from where they expected to see the cone-shaped house 
of the natives. From all appearances, the foot of man 
had never trodden before in this part of the valley. 

The vegetation was thick, rank, and matted. Stunted 
bushes disputed the way; gnarled limbs stretched over- 
head; the moss and fern of centuries grew along the 
course of a little stream which bubbled merrily down the 
middle of the gulch. 

Quebracho led the way with his machete. It required 
constant work on his part to clear a path, and it was fully 
three hours before the party reached the turn in the 
valley. 

They suddenly came upon a clearing which showed 
signs of cultivation. The dense forest ended abruptly at 


300 


Discovered ! 


the edge of a field of growing corn. Above the tops 
could be seen the outlines of a bark hut of primitive con- 
struction. The Indian, who was slightly in advance, 
stepped back and motioned the two lads to be cautious. 

“I see natives,” he said, in a guttural whisper. “They 
over there. Creep to that tree and look.” 

Thekla followed his directions, and from a point of 
vantage glanced across the field to where, standing near 
the hut, were half a dozen men clad in peculiar garments 
of white. 

The faces of the natives were jet black, and their fea- 
tures seemed to be clear-cut and regular. Only one wore 
a hat — a lofty structure of straw, shaped like a cone — 
the others being bareheaded. He of the head-covering 
was talking loudly, the rest listening with every indica- 
tion of respect. 

Presently a dog — a huge creature which seemed to be 
a cross between a bloodhound and a mastiff — walked 
lazily from the hut. He yawned and stretched himself, 
then suddenly sniffed the air. 

His bearing changed instantly. His tail stiffened, his 
massive head was thrown back, then, with a deep, chal- 
lenging bay, he darted toward the spot where Thekla and 
Wynne and Quebracho were concealed. 


CHAPTER XXV. 


THE LIGHT FROM THE SUMMIT. 

As the huge mastiff bounded toward him, giving the 
alarm in his deep-toned baying, Thekla hastily slipped 
back through the bushes to where Quebracho and Wynne 
were awaiting him. 

“Look out,” he exclaimed, warningly; “here comes a 
dog. The brute has scented us, and he is running in this 
direction. Had we better shoot him?” 

“No — no make noise with guns,” replied the Indian. 
“You go back dozen feet. I fix him.” 

Dropping upon his knees. Quebracho wriggled behind 
a thick clump of ferns. The two boys retreated at their 
utmost speed to a large bush covered with broad green 
leaves, then they turned to watch developments. 

Still giving tongue, the dog burst into view from the 
direction of the field. As he passed Quebracho’s place 
of concealment, the Indian’s brawny arms shot out and 
encircled the animal’s neck. 

There was a brief struggle — a very brief struggle — 
then the hound fell backward with its mouth open, and 


203 The Light from the Summit. 

its bright red tongue lolling out. Dragging the body be- 
hind him, the Indian joined the boys. 

‘‘He no bark more,” he said, triumphantly. “It easy 
job to kill him. He big and fat, but no strong. Now I 
put him where natives no find for long time.” 

Picking up the inert body in his hands. Quebracho sent 
it through the air into a mass of tangled vines surround- 
ing a stunted cow tree. There was a faint crash, a snap- 
ping of many branches, then a light thud. Their first 
enemy had received a fitting burial. 

“Hist! I hear some one coming!” warned Thekla, 
pointing toward the cornfield. “Get your revolvers ” 

Before he could finish the sentence he felt himself 
fairly lifted from the ground and forced, together with 
Wynne, into the deep shade of a thorny bush. Que- 
bracho followed, and the three crouched in silence, with 
their eyes directed toward a little space just in front. 

Several men hurried into view. The foremost was he 
of the conical hat. The newcomers halted almost within 
touch of the boys and Quebracho. Peering out from his 
place of concealment, Thekla saw that the evident leader 
of the natives was a man of commanding appearance. 
His hair, escaping from under his cap, was silvery white. 
His face, of the same jet black hue as his companions'. 


The Light from the Summit. 203 

seemed stern and authoritative. But that which instantly 
attracted the attention of the boys was his costume. 

It consisted of a single white tunic, girdled in two 
places, with strings of glittering stones and a carved 
breastplate of beaten gold. The sun, shining through the 
eaves, sent many glittering rays down upon the man, and 
as he swayed his body, he seemed a blaze of fire. 

‘‘Gee-whiz ! did you ever ” whispered Wynne. 

“Sh-h-h ! not a sound for your life,” breathed Thekla. 

“But it’s gold, gold. Gee-wh— — ” 

He was again interrupted, this time by the natives in 
the open. At a signal from the gray-haired man, they 
set up a peculiar clucking noise. It was evidently a call 
for the missing hound. 

Presently their chief commanded silence, then he be- 
gan to speak. The words came like the ripple of running 
waters. There was no trace of the deep, guttural tones 
of Quebracho’s tribe, but a smoothness and harmony 
marvelous to hear. 

Suddenly three of the subordinate natives, who were 
armed with long lances tipped with sharp stones, began 
to poke among the bushes with their weapons. It was a 
critical moment for the unseen watchers, and they 
grasped their revolvers with the expectation of fighting 
for their lives. 


204 The Light from the Summit. 

Fortunately the bush behind which they were con- 
cealed received only a cursory inspection. After a while 
the natives withdrew evidently considerably puzzled as to 
the whereabouts of tht hound. 

“That was an extremely narrow escape,” remarked 
Thekla, as he emerged from the bush. “One of those 
lances passed within an inch of my nose. I thought that 
our time ” 

“Gee-whiz ! did you see the gold chest protector that old 
fellow was wearing?” eagerly interrupted the little 
hunchback. “My! but it glittered. And those stones; 
were they diamonds?” 

“Wynne Teeters, your covetousness will get us into 
trouble yet,” warned Thekla, gravely. “You nearly gave 
us away then. Why can’t you wait a while? You will 
have gold to burn before you leave this place. Now keep 
cool until that time.” 

After a short consultation it was decided to skirt the 
edge of the eastern cliff, and to give all fields a wide 
berth. Considerably excited by what they had seen, the 
boys and Quebracho resumed the journey. 

In the course of an hour they came to the verge of a 
vast plain, which stretched to where, far in the distance, 
were the snow-crowned peaks of a stupendous range of 
mountains. 


Tlie LigHt from the Summit. 205 

Bordering the cliffs on the two sides were narrow 
strips of forest land, but the plain itself was bare save for 
a beautiful green carpet of grass. Paths ran here and 
there, causing the vast surface to resemble a gigantic 
checkerboard. 

Rising from the center was the \yonderful cone-shaped 
structure seen by the boys from the mountain peak. As 
viewed from their present point of observation, it seemed 
more marvelous than ever. 

As stated before, it extended sheer from the plain at 
least one thousand feet. Its base was probably two- 
thirds of that in diameter; and it appeared to be round. 

The rough exterior indicated that it was of natural 
formation — possibly the peculiar result of some ancient 
volcanic upheaval of the earth’s surface. There was 
every evidence of man’s handiwork. Commencing at the 
base a narrow gallery wound around the cone almost to 
the summit. 

The latter did not extend to a point, but ended in a 
platform, from the center of which rose a gigantic statue 
of an animal which seemed to the boys to greatly re- 
semble an ape. 

At regular intervals along the winding gallery were 


2o6 The Light from the Summit. 

openings leading into the interior. They were of small 
size and had evidently been cut into the living rock. 

Passing in and out through them, thronging the gal- 
leries, and gathered in various groups upon the plain at 
the base of the stupendous structure were scores of na- 
tives, all clad in white tunics. 

There seemed to be an object in the movements of 
some, a number being burdened with broad baskets, ' 
which they carried poised upon their heads. A thin line 
of men extended to one of the bordering strips of forest 
land, and another marched in a wide circle, apparently 
treading something upon the ground. 

All this the boys saw as they stood concealed at the 
edge of the plain, and they marveled greatly. Quebra- 
cho displayed an unwonted emotion as he eyed the na- 
tives. His breast heaved and his nostrils dilated with 
rage. He shook his clinched fist in the air and muttered 
threats in his own language. To him the Indians were 
murderers — their hands red with the blood of his father. 

“Wynne,” said Thekla, at last breaking the silence. 

“Yes.” 

“Just pinch me, will you? I don’t know whether I am 
awake or dreaming.” 

A vicious nip inflicted by the little hunchback speedily 


The Tight from the Summit. 207 

convinced him that he was not the victim of a delusion. 
For fully ten minutes longer they watched the strange 
panorama, then a consultation was held to determine the 
next move. 

It was a difficult question to settle. At the cost of con- 
siderable trouble and after experiencing great hardships, 
they had finally arrived within sight of the inhabitants of 
the Valley of Mystery, but the completion of their task 
was seemingly as remote as before. 

“How in the name of all that’s difficult we are going to 
find the writer of the cryptogram in that funny-looking 
house, beats me,” ruefully confessed Thekla. 

“We certainly can’t march up there in broad daylight 
and ask for him,” replied Wynne. 

“What do you think about it. Quebracho?” 

“I soon fix the dogs if I have my tribe here,” scorn- 
fully remarked the Indian. 

“But you haven’t them, you know. There are only 
three of us.” 

Quebracho fingered his rifle wistfully. 

“I like to go there and ask who kill my father. Then 
I shoot all who had hand in it. But no can do that. 
They plenty more than we, and we no stand long before 
them even with our guns. I think we wait until dark 
and then creep around.” 


2o8 The Light from the Summit, 

“That is probably the best plan. We are eifectually 
concealed here, and if another dog does not come nosing 
about, we ought to escape notice. We will defer our 
search until dark.’^ 

As it was long past the noon hour, Wynne — who never 
neglected the inner man — unpacked the little store of 
food, and the party partook of their first meal in the 
valley. 

The afternoon passed slowly, but at last the shades of 
night crept over the distant mountain peaks and the broad 
valley with its mysteries. Shortly after dark the boys 
and their Indian companion crept back to the edge of the 
plain. 

A huge fire had been lighted in front of the “cone 
house,” and away up at the summit another somewhat 
smaller in size glimmered fitfully. Placing their weapons 
in readiness for instant use, the three boldly left the 
shelter of the woods and started to cross the plain. 

By Quebracho’s advice, a long detour was made, he 
considering it more safe to approach the place from the 
other side. An hour after the start found them within 
a few feet of their destination. 

As they halted to reconnoiter, a strange, weird sound 


The Light from the Summit. 209 

floated down from the summit of the cone. It was a 
chant of human voices, musical, sonorous, and impressive. 
Suddenly the fire at the top flared up, casting a ruddy 
light over the stone sides, the galleries, the plain, and the 
little group crouched near the base. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 


CAPTURED ! 

An exclamation of consternation came from Thekla. 
It was echoed by his companions, and the three cast 
themselves flat upon the ground. The light grew stronger 
as more fuel was heaped upon the fire, until at last the 
summit seemed a flaming torch. 

“Gee-whiz !” gasped Wynne, “they will see us sure. 
Can’t we wriggle out of sight?” 

“Sh-h-h! stay here,” muttered Quebracho. “No move; 
maybe they no discover us.” 

As they groveled in the trodden grass in a frantic en- 
deavor to escape detection, two men came out upon the 
first gallery. They walked to the edge and looked down 
upon the plain twenty feet below. 

The ruddy light from the summit brought them out in 
bold relief. Despite the peril of his position, Thekla’s 
curiosity caused him to glance upward. He saw that one 
of the newcomers was a native with silvery gray hair and 
a face as black as the shades of night. A conical hat 
crowning his head, and a shining breastplate of gold pro- 
claimed his identity. 


Captured ! 


2II 


It was the man they had seen that afternoon. 

From him the lad’s gaze wandered to his companion. 
He gave him one rapid glance, then he uttered a half- 
stifled cry of excitement. 

A warning whisper came from Quebracho. 

It was too late. The old man with the silvery hair 
leaned far over the edge of the gallery and peered down 
at them. He saw their figures outlined against the green 
background, then he started back with a sonorous shout 
of alarm. 

Almost before the sound had died away the galleries 
became alive with men. The old chief — for such he 
seemed to be — pointed downward, and called out an un- 
mistakable order. In prompt obedience, the spiral gal- 
lery surged with natives hurrying to the level of the plain. 

“We must run for it,” hoarsely exclaimed Thekla, 
starting to his feet. 

“Why you cry?” demanded Quebracho, as he followed 
the lad’s example. 

“One of those men — they that first appeared — one was 
white — he is a white man — perhaps the explorer.” 

The words came brokenly from his lips as he and the 
Indian ran swiftly across the plain in the direction of the 
strip of woods bordering the cliff. There was no fur- 


212 Captured I 

ther attempt at conversation. The fugitives’ one hope 
was to reach the shelter of the forest. 

There a refuge might be secured, but only temporarily. 
Penned in the valley with an enemy outnumbering them 
one hundred to one, their ultimate capture was sure to 
result. 

Drowning men will grasp at straws. To the man on 
the gallows a moment of delay equals a year of life under 
ordinary circumstances. With the strange structure be- 
hind them echoing with the sounds of pursuit, with the 
hubbub and noise and turmoil in the rear increasing with 
every step, Thekla and Quebracho ran as they had never 
ran before. 

The fitful glare from the fire upon the summit lighted 
their way; and it also served to discover to the young 
botanist a most startling fact. While scurrying along he 
turned slightly to encourage Wynne. To his amazement 
and horror he saw that only Quebracho was with him. 

The little hunchback had disappeared. 

“Where is Wynne?” he exclaimed, checking his speed. 

The Indian stopped and glanced around in bewilder- 
ment. 

“He no here,” he said. “Maybe he been captured.” 

Both looked back in the direction of the “cone house.” 
Trailing out over the plain were scores of natives in hot 


Captured! 213 

pursuit. Beyond them the glare from the beacon re- 
vealed a crowd gathered near the base of the structure. 
They were surrounding some object, which seemed to be 
fighting desperately. 

It was undoubtedly the missing member of the little 
party. That he had been overtaken in the flight was 
evident. There was little hesitation in Thekla’s decision. 

'T am going back,” he said, simply. “I can’t see him 
suffer alone. You may be able to escape by gaining 
the ” 

“Hush, little master!” softly interrupted the Indian. 

He placed one hand caressingly upon Thekla’s shoul- 
der, and added: 

“Maybe bimeby you know Quebracho. He native, but 
he same as white man in some things. He live many 
years in forests where he have good time. He like the 
green woods and the sunny sky and the home life with 
his people, but he no afraid to die. His father killed in 
here — ^is he better than his father? We go to join the 
little boy with the laughing ways and the crooked back. 
Come!” 

Thekla’s eyes moistened and he fervently clasped his 
companion’s hand. There was no time for speech. Al- 
ready the nearest pursuer was within a dozen feet. The 


214 Captured! 

lad’s idea was to fight his way to his chum’s side and to 
die with him if necessary. 

It only took a word to convey this information to Que- 
bracho, but before the two could level their weapons, the 
beacon fire upon the summit was abruptly extinguished. 

The sudden transition from light to utter darkness 
blinded the fugitives. Groping toward each other, they 
placed themselves back to back, and prepared to give 
battle to those of the pursuers who were almost within 
reach. 

Seconds passed into minutes without the expected at- 
tack. A strange silence succeeded the former turmoil — 
a silence so oppressive and ominous that either would 
have welcomed an outburst of artillery as a change. 

“Can’t we creep toward the "cone house?’” whispered 
Thekla. "‘Anything is better than remaining here.” 

“Where is it?” grimly asked Quebracho. 

The question was pertinent. In their groping they 
had lost all bearings. They were ingulfed in a sea of 
blackness. There was absolutely nothing to guide them ; 
no sound, nor light, nor friendly hand. 

Thekla was growing desperate. 

The mere thought that his faithful friend was in the 


Captured! 215 

clutches of the mysterious tribe of natives was anguish 
to him. He could not remain quiet and inactive. 

“Let us do something,” he whispered, hoarsely. “We 
may chance upon ” 

His words were brought to a sudden ending. 

Without the slightest warning the meshes of a stout 
net were cast about the croucliing fugitives. There was 
a strong tug, and in less time than is required in the 
writing, the twain were helpless prisoners. 

They tried to extricate themselves, but their frantic 
struggles only served to entangle them further. A score 
of hands grasped them, ropes were wound around their 
bodies ; then, trussed like a pair of fowls, they were lifted 
and carried across the plain. 

Before their captors had proceeded far, the light upon 
the platform at the summit of the “cone house” flared 
forth again. It revealed a strange and stirring scene to 
the prisoners. 

The winding galleries seemed alive with men ; the plain 
surged with them, and accompanying the two captives 
were scores of stern-visaged natives armed with uncouth 
weapons — stone-tipped lances, clubs of some bronze 
metal, huge maces traced with gold. 

There was no babble of voices, no outspoken threats — 


2 i 6 Captured! 

nothing save a silence clamorous in its intensity. The 
chief with the conical cap was met near the base of the 
first gallery. He spoke no word to the guards, but di- 
rected them with a wave of his arm toward the begin- 
ning of the ascent. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 


IN THE CELL. 

Thekla and Quebracho had early recognized the futility 
of resistance. They knew well that escape under the cir- 
cumstances was hopeless. Surrounded as they were by 
armed foes, and trussed with the entangling net and the 
ropes, they could only submit to the inevitable. 

As yet they had not suffered injury. Only the neces- 
sary force had been used in their capture. And the 
guards carrying them seemed prone to treat the captives 
with studied gentleness. 

However, this did not promise anything. The fate of 
Quebracho’s father was strong in the minds of both. 
The spectacle of his parent, blind, scarred, and with hair 
whitened by torture, came before the Indian. And to 
Thekla in a lesser degree. 

The latter would have given much for sight of Wynne. 
He knew now, probably for the first time, just how much 
friendship he had for the little hunchback. As they were 
carried upward along the gradual ascent, he hoped fer- 
vently that they would meet again before the natives 
worked their will with him. 


2i8 


In the Cell. 


After several moments of climbing, the party halted in 
front of an opening in the stone side of the cone. A door 
of heavy wood was thrown back, then the prisoners were 
carried through into what was evidently a cell dug in the 
rock. 

The net was removed, the ropes binding their arms 
taken away, then their captors retired, leaving them the 
freedom of their limbs, but evidently secure against 
escape. 

“Quebracho?” called out Thekla, after the door lead- 
ing to the gallery was closed upon them. 

“Yes.” 

“Are you all right?” 

An affirmative grunt came through the darkness, then 
the lad heard his companion shuffling across the stone 
floor. He felt something touch him upon the arm, then 
a hand clasped his. It was a simple act, but the sense of 
companionship it conveyed was not to be measured by 
words. 

“We still alive, little master,” said Quebracho, softly. 
“We in bad fix, but maybe we get out.” 

“I sincerely hope so; but I think it is doubtful. We 
are completely in these natives’ power, and they can do 
as they wish with us. I wonder where poor V/ynne is?” 

“Maybe he in here, too. I look around.” 


In the Cell. 


219 

“We’ll search together,” quickly replied Thekla. “Per- 
haps there may be pitfalls about. Better be careful.” 

Before leaving the spot where they stood, the young 
botanist called out his chum’s name. Receiving no an- 
swer, he and Quebracho cautiously crept along the hard 
stone floor upon their hands arid knees. 

After traversing a dozen feet in this manner they 
reached a wall. Turning to the right, they continued al- 
most the same distance before they were again stopped. 

“I believe I have found another door here,” said 
Thekla, in a low voice. “I can feel wood.” 

A brief examination proved that his surmise was cor- 
rect. It was a second door similar to that opening from 
the gallery. Where could it lead? It was evidently at 
the end of the cell toward the center. Was the cone 
hollow ? 

Continuing their search, the prisoners finally reached 
the portal through which they had entered. They had 
made a complete tour of the apartment without discov- 
ering aught save the doors and the bare stone walls and 
floor. 

“There is nothing in here,” said Thekla, in some dis- 
gust. “We are simply confined in what might be called 


a hole,” 


220 


In the Cell. 


“And there no way of escape. It same as if we tied 
hand and foot.’’ 

“I wish I knew where poor Wynne is,” sighed the 
young botanist. “If I were certain that he had not been 
injured I could feel better.” 

“We learn bimeby. No use worry now. I go sleep.” 

Quebracho calmly stretched himself out upon the floor 
and was soon slumbering as peacefully as if in his own 
hut upon the banks of the Mazaruni. Thekla had neither 
the inclination nor the power to follow his example. 

The lad paced back and forth from end to end of the 
cell like a wild beast in its cage. His anxiety concerning 
the fate of his chum drove all thoughts of his own danger 
from his mind. He now realized that his overwhelming 
curiosity to solve the mystery of the cryptogram had 
placed the lives of himself and friends in the direst peril. 

From all appearances the mystery was as far from 
solution as before — but not their fate. The coming of 
dawn would probably settle that. The ominous silence 
of their captors, their grim faces, all pointed to a settled 
plan. 

“That fire upon the summit of the cone,” murmured 
Thekla; “what is its meaning?” 

He stopped short, struck with a horrible thought. The 


In tlie Cell. 


221 


memory of several books treating of the customs of sav- 
age tribes flashed over him. In one — a work on the In- 
cas of ancient Peru — ^he had read descriptions of their 
religious sacrifices — of how they had immolated on their 
barbaric altars the bodies of their helpless victims. 

“What if these natives follow the same practice?” he 
asked, aloud. “What if they are reserving us for such 
a fate?” 

Trembling with horror, he awoke Quebracho, but be- 
fore he could tell the Indian of his new fears, a noise 
sounded at the outer door. It was thrown open, reveal- 
ing upon the gallery a score of natives bearing torches. 

In front stood their chief — he of the conical hat — ^and 
just behind him were three others, evidently men of au- 
thority. They glanced searchingly into the cell for a 
moment, then entered, accompanied by several guards 
armed with maces. 

Quebracho sprang to his feet with the agility of a 
tiger. Stepping in front of Thekla, he squared his 
brawny arms. 

“They no take us without fight,” he muttered, between 
his clinched teeth. “Little master, maybe we die now, 
but we die like men.” 


7,2,2 


In the Cell. 


The old chief halted after crossing the threshold. 
Raising one hand in what was evidently meant for a 
gesticulation of peace, he uttered several words in his 
sonorous voice. 

“He is speaking to us. Do you understand him said 
Thekla. 

Quebracho shook his head. 

“I no hear that language before,” he replied. 

At a signal, four of the guard — brawny men clad in 
white tunics — advanced toward the prisoners. Thekla 
and Quebracho instantly retreated to the nearest wall and 
stood on the defensive. 

A sharp command came from the old chief, and the 
guard halted. Suddenly, a couple of robes were thrown 
down in front of the lad and his companion, and one of 
the natives made motions as if directing them to change 
their garments. 

This confirmed Thekla’s suspicions concerning the 
meaning of the beacon fire. In the descriptions of sacri- 
fices read by him the victims had been clad in white. 

“Quebracho,” he muttered, “I know now what they 
intend doing with us. They are going to burn us in that 
fire upon the summit of this cone.” 


In the Cell. 


223 

“Not alive,” shouted the Indian, fiercely. “They 
never burn us alive. Come, little master ; we die fighting 
like men.” 

With the frenzy of a wild beast, he sprang forward 
and threw himself upon the old chief! 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 


QUEBRACHO HAS AN OPINION. 

Quebracho’s attack was so sudden and unexpected that 
he was upon the old chief before a hand was raised to 
stop him. The force of his onslaught sent both to the 
floor, but they were torn apart by the guard before the 
Indian could wreak his vengeance. 

Thekla had attempted to follow his companion’s ex- 
ample, but he was seized and forced backward in the 
twinkling of an eye. Quebracho struggled fiercely, and 
it required the united efforts of a dozen men to subdue 
him. 

Finally he was thrown to the floor and his arms tied. 
The old chief, apparently as calm and unruffled as before, 
was assisted to his feet. He rearranged his disordered 
tunic and again faced the prisoners. 

At a word from him Thekla’s clothing was removed, 
and the white robe placed about him. The other was 
thrown in front of Quebracho, then the natives with- 
drew, securing the door behind them. 

Thekla gave a sigh of relief when they were again 
alone. 


Quebracho Has ar*. Opinion. 225 

“By George! I thought we were gone that time,” he 
said. “I was sure they had come to take us to their 
altar.” 

“Untie this rope, little master,” called out the Indian. 

•The young botanist obeyed. Once upon his feet, Que- 
bracho ran to the door. He shook it with all the strength 
of his powerful arms, but without success. It had been 
securely fastened. 

“We no get out here,” he said, despondently. “They 
got us now for sure.” 

It was evident the failure of his daring attack had dis- 
couraged him. Under the circumstances there was 
ample cause for loss of hope. Caged as they were in 
the stone cell, all they could do was to wait with folded 
arms the fatal hour when they would be led forth to the 
sacrifice. 

Thekla explained his suspicions concerning the sum- 
mit fire, and Quebracho' agreed with him. They sat upon 
the stone floor and talked until a faint thread of light 
creeping in under the outer door proclaim.ed the advent 
of day. 

Presently the sound of voices chanting came to their 
ears as from a great distance. It lasted several moments, 
then a shuffling of feet upon the gallery indicated that 


226 Quebracho Has an Opinion. 

the natives were descending to the plain. In due time 
gourds containing food were thrust in by armed guards. 

Quebracho ate with his accustomed appetite, but 
Thekla barely tasted the simple fare. Toward evening 
another supply was placed in the cell. As time passed 
without aught occurring the lad took heart. 

^‘We have been in their power twenty-four hours, and 
we are still living,” he said, almost cheerfully. ‘‘We have 
a saying at home, ‘While there is life there is hope.’ Per- 
haps they do not intend to sacrifice us after all.” 

“We learn bimeby,” was Quebracho’s terse reply. 

“If I only knew what had become of Wynne, I 
wouldn’t care much.” 

“I no think they kill him.” 

“You don’t?” 

“No. He no like other people.” 

“How do you mean?” 

“He little, and got crooked back. He got great eyes 
like deer. He smile all the time. When I first see him 
with his long arms and little legs I think he like man 
ape.” 

“Nonsense!” cried Thekla, indignantly. “He is noth- 
ing like ari ape.” 

“Maybe not to you,” replied Quebracho, quietly. 


Quebracho Has an Opinion. 227 

“Maybe you got plenty like him in big country where you 
from. But we no have such in our tribes.” 

The lad was compelled to confess that he had never 
heard of a hunchback or deformed native. Still he did 
not as yet catch his companion’s meaning. 

“Why should Wynne’s queer-shaped body prevent 
these natives from harming him?” he asked, curiously. 

“What we see on top of this funny house when we look 
from edge of plain?” 

“A statue.” 

“What it like?” 

Thekla thought a moment. The statue had certainly 
struck him as being unlike a man. He recalled that 
Wynne himself had compared it to a gigantic ape. 

“If I am not mistaken, it resembled a huge simian, or 
baboon,” he replied to his companion’s question. 

“Yes; that is why I think natives no harm Wynne. 
They look at him, and they say he no man like others. 
He may be not human.” 

A light came to Thekla. 

“Oh, I understand you now,” he exclaimed, excitedly. 
“You think they will regard Wynne as a god because he 

resembles their statue. Hurrah! if that is so ” 

He checked himself suddenly, interrupted by a peculiar 
and most familiar sound. Coming through the door op- 


228 Quebracho Has an Opinion. 

posite to that leading from the gallery were the unmis- 
takable tones of a violin! 

With the solemn strains of an air from Wagner ring- 
ing in his ears, Thekla bounded to the door and beat upon 
it with his clinched fists. 

“Wynne! Wynne! is it you?” he shouted, frantically. 

The music softened and died away as if in the distance, 
but no response came to the lad’s appeal. Quebracho 
joined him, and the two raised their voices in one pro- 
longed cry. The little cell echoed with the sound, but 
there was no reply. 

“It was Wynne !” exclaimed Thekla, eagerly. “I 
know it was he. I have heard him play that scores of 
times. Where is he ? Why don’t he answer ?” 

The Indian could offer no explanation. 

“Quebracho, I heard the music, didn’t I?” murmured 
Thekla, piteously. “It wasn’t a dream?” 

“No; somebody play on other side of door. No worry, 
little master; all be explained bimeby.” 

“Yes, I know, but why didn’t Wynne answer? He 
surely heard me shout. I — I can’t understand it. Que- 
bracho. I wish they would do something and end this 
suspense.” 

He paced up and down from door to door, only stop- 
ping now and then to listen eagerly for a return of the 


Quebraclio Has an Opinion. 229 

music. His companion tried to quiet him with hopeful 
words, but without avail. 

The night dragged with leaden feet to Thekla. To- 
ward morning he was compelled to rest. Worn out by 
excitement and the many incidents of the day, he fell into 
a restless sleep. 

Both he and Quebracho were awakened several hours 
later by the opening of the inner door. Springing to 
their feet, they advanced and found four men guarding 
the entrance. 

One — a stalwart native wearing the golden breast- 
plate of authority — motioned them to leave the cell. Ut- 
terly wearied by their long confinement, and, desirous of 
a change, no matter what it might bring, they obeyed. 

As they crossed the threshold an exclamation of 
amazement burst from Thekla’s lips. 

They had emerged from the cell into an apartment ab- 
solutely colossal in its extent. It apparently formed the 
larger part of the entire cone, and the roof, coming to a 
point, was barely visible overhead. 

Around the stone walls ran galleries like those outside, 
but much smaller. In the center, rising from the floor to 
a height of more than one hundred feet, was a stupen- 
dous statue similar in shape to that upon the summit. 

It stood upon a broad dais, and its color — revealed by 


230 Quebracho Has an Opinion. 

a dim light filtering through numerous openings in the 
walls — could come from only one metal — ^gold ! 

Hanging from the galleries at various places were 
broad banners of woven grass, rude in shape, but lavishly 
ornamented with queer designs of the same precious 
metal. 

Directly in front of the heroic statue was a throne of 
carved marble draped with animal skins. Arranged in a 
semicircle before this were numerous stone benches — 
simple blocks, guiltless of arms or backs. Seated 
upon these were scores of natives, their jet black faces 
strongly outlined against the snowy whiteness of their 
tunics. 

Suddenly a weird, musical chanting drew Thekla’s at- 
tention to the opposite side of the vast chamber. 

Looking in that direction, he saw a strange procession 
approaching from one of the many outlets. In front 
marched four men, bearing the golden badge of authority 
— the carven breastplate. Behind them paced, with ma- 
jestic air, the old chief, his conical hat rising high above 
the heads of his companions. 

Then came four more minor chiefs, and behind them a 
man — drooping and apparently bowed with age — whose 
face and fringe of tawny beard indicated that he was not 
of the tribe. 


Quebracho Has an Opinion. 231 

Thekla recognized him as the person he had seen on the 
gallery with the old chief, and he felt in his heart that 
he at last looked upon the missing explorer — the writer 
of the mysterious cryptogram. 

The lad barely had time to see that he was girt with 
golden chains, probably as a symbol of his captivity, when 
his attention was called to the next part of the procession. 

Raised upon the shoulders of eight stalwart natives 
was a platform bearing a small block of carved stone. 
Seated upon this was a lad clad in a long, flowing robe of 
white. The garment did not hide the fact that he was 
small of stature and crooked of back. 

Upon his head rested a conical hat of greater height 
than that worn by the old chief. In his hands he carried 
a violin and bow, and as the procession approached the 
throne he placed the instrument beneath his chin and 
played sweet chords from some familiar melody. 

A cry of joy came from Thekla. 

"‘Wynne ! Wynne !” 

The lad upon the platform paid no heed. With eyes 
directed in front, he continued to play upon the instru- 
ment. Thekla attempted to run to him, but the guards 
gently but firmly held him back. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 


THE CEREMONY IN THE GREAT ROOM. 

The procession swept on until it neared the golden 
statue. At a signal from the old chief, who was evi- 
dently the master of ceremonies, the raised platform was 
lowered to the floor within a few feet of the marble 
throne. 

With head thrown back, and as haughtily as if the 
blood of kings flowed in his veins, Wynne stepped to the 
chair. 

After seating himself, he continued playing. Long 
practice and a natural love for the art had made him a 
master. The sweet strains changed from grave to gay, 
and then back to a swelling volume of solemn tones. 

The effect upon his audience was almost indescribable. 
They flung themselves from their seats and upon the hard 
stone floor and groveled in awe before the throne. 

Presently Thekla saw the old chief signal the guards 
near the cell door. Four of the latter caught the pris- 
oners by the arms and led them forward. They went 
willingly — Thekla because he wished to speak to Wynne, 


The Ceremony in the Great Room. 2533 

and Quebracho from sheer weariness of spirit and a de- 
sire for a change. 

As they approached the natives the young botanist saw 
the explorer eye them with evident eagerness. He even 
attempted to meet them, but the old chief restrained him. 

A short distance from the throne the guards motioned 
the two prisoners to prostrate themselves. Unable to con- 
tain himself longer, Thekla broke away and leaped upon 
the dais. 

“Wynne! Wynne! what is the meaning of this?’" he 
called out, imploringly. “Why don’t you ” 

He was seized by the tunic and dragged away before 
he could complete the appeal. But he had ample time to 
see that his former chum was apparently oblivious of his 
presence. 

Wynne had simply stared over his head with features 
as immovable as those of the golden statue. 

Completely bewildered and with his heart welling with 
bitter disappointment, Thekla crouched by Quebracho’s 
side. 

“No worry, little master,” softly whispered the Indian ; 
“no worry; all come right bimeby.” 

But the lad refused to be comforted. Despite his loyal 
belief in his chum, he was compelled to suspect the worse. 
He knew how Wynne clung to life, and how niggardly 


234 Ceremony in the Great Room. 

Nature had been with him in her bestowal of physical 
courage. 

He did not care to think that Wynne would forsake him 
to save his own life, but appearances tended strongly in 
that direction. What Quebracho thought of the affair 
he kept locked in his own mind. 

As the two crouched upon the floor they heard the na- 
tives chanting something remarkably like a dirge. Pres- 
ently it ceased, and the sweet notes of Wynne’s violin 
commenced. 

Looking up, Thekla saw the old chief advancing to- 
ward them. Halting before the lad, he elevated both 
arms and began a long harangue in the rich, sonorous 
tongue of the tribe. 

At its conclusion he motioned them to advance to the 
foot of the throne. As they crossed the intervening space 
they passed close to the white stranger, who was stand- 
ing with bowed head within a few feet of the dais. 

Scarcely knowing what he did, Thekla reached out and 
touched his arm. 

“Who are you?” he asked, eagerly. “Are you the ex- 
plorer who fell into this valley years ago ? Did you send 
a cryptogram ” 

The man turned his haggard face to his questioner, and 
replied volubly, but the language was that used by the 


The Ceremony in the Great Room. 235 

natives. It was plainly evident he could not speak 
English. 

This was a last blow. Completely crushed, Thekla 
passed on with Quebracho. Obeying the motions of their 
guide, they knelt in front of the throne. The old chief 
bowed low before Wynne, and at the completion of a 
short speech, pointed to the prisoners with his right hand. 

The significance of the movement was not lost to 
Thekla. 

'‘Quebracho, we are brought here for judgment,” he 
whispered, excitedly. “Think of it: Wynne is to judge 
us.” 

“Then we all right,” replied the Indian, in a tone of 
relief. “Little Crooked-back, he save us.” 

The young botanist shook his head despondently. 

“I am not sure of that,” he said. “He has refused to 
recognize us, and ” 

“What ! you no think he let us be killed if he can 
say no?” 

Before Thekla could reply, his attention was called 
to the throne. Rising from his seat, the little hunchback 
turned until he faced the statue towering above his head. 

Extending the hand holding the violin, he waved the 
instrument to and fro several times, then he replaced it 
beneath his chin and burst into a rollicking jig. 


236 The Ceremony in the Great Room. 


After playing a number of bars he stopped and stepped 
down upon the platform. A great cry came from the na- 
tives, and the whole audience arose as one man. The old 
chief uttered a sharp command, and guards advanced, but 
before they could seize the prisoners, Quebracho' shouted : 

“Now the chance, little master. No let them take you; 
fight, and maybe we escape. Follow me.” 

His voice rang through the vast apartment like the 
stirring notes of a bugle. Throwing his brawny arms 
out, he sent two of the guards sprawling upon the floor. 

Urged to desperation by the unanticipated events of 
the past hour, Thekla followed his example. Eluding the 
grasp of a sturdy native, he darted to the Indian’s side. 

“We will escape or die !” he shouted, recklessly. 

In an instant both were struggling against over- 
whelming odds. At the commencement of the outbreak 
the old chief had leaped upon the dais. His voice arose 
above the din, and in the twinkling of an eye the lad and 
his companion were prisoners again. 

Still fighting desperately, they were forced across the 
floor to the door of the cell. They were thrown headlong 
into the smaller apartment, and the heavy wooden portal 
closed after them. 

Panting for breath, they laid for some time without 
speaking. 


The Ceremony in the Great Room. 237 

“Ugh ! they too many for us,” said Quebracho, finally. 
“I whip five — six, but no can whip hundred. You hurt, 
little master?” 

“Not in body,” replied Thekla, sadly. 

“What you mean?” 

“I escaped without physical injury; but, oh. Quebracho, 
I feel worse than if I had been beaten almost to death.” 

“You mean about funny action of Wynne?” 

“Yes. I feel convinced now that he has forsaken us for 
the purpose of saving his own life. It is hard to believe, 
but facts prove it. Just to think of it! We have lived 
together like brothers for many years. We have helped 
each other in sickness and trouble. And now — I — I 
would have died for him.” 

Neither heard a fumbling at the door, nor noticed that 
it was open until a voice softly called them by name. At 
last aroused, they sprang to their feet and saw that they 
were not alone in the cell. 

Wynne stood before them. 


CHAPTER XXX. 


WYNNE EXPLAINS. 

He was outlined against the doorway, and a dim light 
coming from the great chamber fell upon his white robe 
and reflected softly from a curiously-worked breastplate 
of gold which hung from his shoulders. His right hand 
still clutched the violin and bow. 

The old chief and several guards stood at a respectful 
distance in the outer room. 

‘Thekla,” murmured the little hunchback. 

The young botanist made no reply. Folding his arms, 
he looked his chum full in the face. 

“Thekla,” repeated Wynne, wistfully, “why do you not 
speak ?” 

“For probably the same reason you failed to reply to 
me out there,” replied the lad, bitterly. 

To his surprise, Wynne stepped to the door and closed 
it. Then, returning, he broke into one of his old familiar 
chuckles. 

“Gee-whiz ! if you aren’t the worst fellow I ever saw,” 
he exclaimed. “You never could take a joke.” 

“A joke?” 


Wynne Explains. 239 

“Yes; didn’t you tumble to my curves, as they say in 
New York? He! he! he! just you wait until I explain 
matters and you’ll say it’s the greatest hoax of the cen- 
tury. Chum, give me your hand.” 

Thekla, still bewildered, mechanically complied. The 
little hunchback gave it a hearty shake, then repeated 
the operation with Quebracho. The latter’s face had 
relaxed into what might be called an actual grin. It was 
evident that he felt highly pleased at the change in 
affairs, 

“For goodness’ sake explain,” cried the young botanist, 
impatiently. “What does it all mean ? What part do you 
take in this combination, anyway?” 

“I am a god;” replied Wynne, gayly. 

“A god?” 

“Yes; the god of thingumbob, or whatever you want to 
call it. I am the lord high muckamuck of this whole val- 
ley. When I sneeze the earth trembles. And when I 
bow my head the whole tribe falls in a fit.” 

“Quit your fooling and put us out of our misery,” im- 
plored Thekla. 

Quebracho salaamed profoundly. 

“Me know it,” he murmured. “When me first see you 
me. know you was a god. These people no fools ; they 
find you out plenty quick.” 


240 Wynne Explains. 

Thekla and Wynne exchanged glances of amused 
surprise. 

‘‘Gee-whiz ! — did you hear him ?” whispered the latter. 
“He has taken the fever, too. If this keeps on, I’ll think 
I really belong to a select circle of deities.” 

“He is having a little fun at your expense,” replied 
the young botanist, in the same tone. 

He had caught sight of a quiet smile upon the Indian’s 
face. 

“Humph! is that so? I am disappointed.” 

Wynne stole to the door and peeped out, then he re- 
turned and commenced the explanation Thekla was so 
anxious to hear. 

“The other night, when that light flared up at the sum- 
mit, I started to run with you fellows, but as I was scurry- 
ing over the grass I tripped on something and fell full 
length.” 

“Why didn’t you call to us?” asked Thekla. “We 
would have picked you up.” 

“I tried to, but I rooted the ground with my nose, and 
my mouth was full of grass and dirt. When I finally 
scrambled to my feet you were almost out of sight and 
the natives were at my heels. About a million jumped on 
me, and I had to surrender.” 

“We saw you fighting.” 


241 


Wynne Explains. 

Wynne chuckled. 

“Gee-whiz ! I had to. I was almost scared to death, but 
I managed to get in a few licks. After they captured 
me they took me up that inclined gallery to the big room. 
Before we reached the entrance the light upon the sum- 
mit went out.” 

“We had just discovered your absence then,” explained 
Thekla. 

“And we start back to help you,” added Quebracho. 

“You couldn’t have whipped the whole tribe.” 

“No; we no expect to do that. But we get what you 
get; if you die we die, too.” 

Wynne gave the speaker a grateful tap with his bow. 

“Thank you, old fellow,” he said, softly. “I knew 
you were true blue.” 

Slipping to the door again he looked out. As he re- 
turned he played a fragment of some catchy air. 

“I must keep my eyes on the old chief,” he explained. 
“As matters stand now, I own the valley, but they may 
tumble to my earthly origin yet; then there’ll be fun.” 

“After I was taken into the great room a number of 
torches were lighted,” he continued. “Then the natives 
gathered around and eyed me as if I were some strange 
animal. Suddenly the old chief got on to my shape, and 
he nearly had a fit. He poured out a regular torrent of 


242 Wynne Explains. 

words in his queer lingo, then I was taken up to the foot 
of that golden statue. 

“I could tell by the way they acted that they were com- 
paring it to me, and you can rest assured I didn't feel a 
bit flattered.” 

He spoke so whimsically that Thekla laughed outright, 
and Quebracho permitted a ghost of a smile to flit across 
his stern face. 

“It struck me that it resembles a monkey,” said the 
young botanist, slyly. 

“It does,” admitted Wynne, frankly, “and I guess I 
do, too. But that very resemblance has been the means 
of saving our lives thus far, so we shouldn’t object.” 

“That’s right,” replied Thekla. “Under the circum- 
stances, I wouldn’t care if I were a two-headed boa con- 
strictor.” 

“When I saw what they were up to,” continued the 
little hunchback, “I concluded that I had been picked out 
as a god of some kind. I had heard somewhere that^ 
music soothes the savage breast, so I unwrapped my 
violin and gave them a tune. 

“Ha! ha! You should have seen them. They nearly 
went crazy. I gave them a few bars of ‘Johnny, Get 
Your Gun,’ and they went into hysterics. Then I 
branched off into ‘White Wings’ ” 


M3 


Wynne Explains. 

“And half of them fell dead?’’ 

“No, they cried bitter tears of woe.” 

“No wonder.” 

“Well, I had them fixed by that time. I could tell by 
their actions that I weighed more in their estimation than 
that hundred ton golden statue, which, by the way. I’d 
like to take home. Just think of it. Gee- whiz ! it would 
be worth ” 

“Never mind the gold; proceed with your explanation. 
What did they do next?” 

“They took my clothes and gave me this robe and this 
chest protector. It’s made of gold, and it weighs about 
ten pounds. Gee-whiz! if we had it in New York we 
could ” 

“Wynne Teeters, will you keep to your story or not?” 
exclaimed Thekla, impatiently. “Great Scott! can’t you 
drop your confounded covetousness for five minutes? 
Now go ahead.” 

“All right; just as you say,” agreed the little hunch- 
back, meekly. “But if we get out of this valley I intend 
to take with me a gross of these chest protectors, assorted 

sizes. They’ll be the fad in New York, and Hold 

on. I’ll drop the subject. Wait until I see how things are 
outside.” 


244 Wynne Explains. 

Opening the door, he cautiously peeped forth. As he 
did so a hoarse cry came from the outer apartment, then 
Thekla and Quebracho saw him turn as if to retreat. 

Both ran forward, but before they reached the door 
Wynne quickly slipped through and closed it behind him. 


CHAPTER XXXI. 


THE STRANGER IS IDENTIFIED. 

Wynne’s actions and the sudden cry from the outer 
room caused Thekla and Quebracho to exchange glances 
of apprehension. The latter attempted to open the door, 
but it was immovable. 

“What in the deuce has happened now ?” queried 
Thekla, anxiously. 

Both listened eagerly. They heard a confused mur- 
mur of voices, then the familiar tones of the violin came 
to their ears. A moment later the door was thrown open 
and Wynne stepped into the cell followed by a man. 

His companion was the white stranger whom the 
young botanist had identified, at least to his own satis- 
faction, as the writer of the cryptogram. A subdued 
light entering through an aperture over the outer door 
fell full upon his face. 

By its aid Thekla saw that he was a man of not more 
than forty years of age, although misfortune had seamed 
his brow with deep lines and sprinkled his hair and 
sweeping mustache with gray. 

He appeared greatly excited, and entered the cell witi 


246 


The Stranger is Identified. 


eager steps. Glancing from Quebracho to Thekla, he 
suddenly grasped the latter’s hand and spoke rapidly and 
passionately in the native tongue. 

He was evidently making an appeal, but the words 
were unintelligible to his hearers. When he saw that he 
was not understood he turned away with an expression 
of bitter disappointment. 

“What the matter out there ?” Quebracho asked 
Wynne. 

“When I opened the door I saw this poor fellow strug- 
gling with the guards,” replied the little hunchback. '"I 
saw that he was trying to enter the cell, so I went to his 
aid. It’s a pity he can’t speak English.” 

“Yes ; he could then tell us all about this valley.” 

“He looks like an American.” 

Thekla glanced at the man. Wynne was right; he cer- 
tainly resembled their own countrymen. 

“There is some mystery about his language,” he said, 
decisively. “I feel assured he is the American explorer 
who entered this valley with Quebracho’s father.” 

“And you think he sent that cryptogram from here?” 

“I do.” 

Wynne shook his head doubtfully. 

“If he is an American he would speak English, and 
if he could speak that language he would not have used 


The Stranger is Identified. 247 

characters upon that leaf. I am afraid you are mis- 
taken.” 

“I try him in my tongue,” spoke up the Indian, 

He uttered several guttural sounds, but the stranger 
paid no heed. Thekla then experimented with a couple 
of Spanish phrases with a like result. 

“We’ll have to give it up,” confessed the lad. “He 
knows only this outlandish lingo.” 

“You could prove whether he wrote the cryptogram 
or not,” said Wynne, quickly. 

“How?” 

“By showing it to him.” 

Thekla glanced down at his white tunic and spread' out 
his hands. 

“You are right, chum, but you see I haven’t it here. 
The photograph of the leaf is in my coat pocket. In 
your capacity of god or King Ape or whatever you are, 
can’t you get it for me?” 

“I’ll try.” 

“Before go tell us rest,” spoke up Quebracho, whose 
curiosity was evidently still unappeased. “What people 
do after they give you clothes?” 

“Yes, spin the rest of your yarn,” added Thekla. “I’m 
dying to hear why you gave me the shake when I tried to 
speak to you this morning.” 


248 The Stranger is Identined. 

“It was for your own good, dear boy,” chuckled the 
little hunchback. “I flatter myself I cut you dead that 
time. But I had a reason, as you know now. 

“After they togged me out they led me to another 
room much larger than this. Food was brought, and I 
feasted royally. While I ate they crouched upon the 
floor as if afraid that I would strike them blind. I was 
thus left to myself for a while, and I occupied the time 
thinking. 

“I was sure of two things: My — ahem — alleged re- 
semblance to that statue had caused the natives to think 
that I was a god sent down for their special edification, 
and my violin had strengthened the belief. I resolved to 
take advantage of the situation and to clinch the affair 
with as much music as I could muster. In fact, I con- 
cluded to talk to them with the fiddle and bow.” 

“It has certainly succeeded.” 

“I wished to obtain news of you,” continued Wynne, 
“but I thought it best to lay low. This morning the old 
chief motioned me to mount that platform in the proces- 
sion. After I reached the throne and you were brought 
before me, I knew that I was to judge you — to say 
whether you were to die or not. 

“I tell you it was a ticklish position. I don’t know 
what I would have done if I hadn’t had a sudden in- 


The Stranger is Identified. 249 

spiration. I was on the point of jumping down to fight 
it out with you when it occurred to me that life meant 
quickness and death solemnity/’ 

-Yes, and ” 

“When they brought you before me I turned to the 
golden statue as if to ask its opinion ; then I struck into 
a rollicking jig. Gee- whiz ! it worked like a charm. I 
saw by the expression on the old chief’s face that he un- 
derstood my meaning, and that you were safe. But you 
almost spoiled it by your outbreak.” 

“We couldn’t help it,” replied Thekla. “We were des- 
perate. We thought you had gone back on us, and we 
didn’t care what happened.” 

“ ‘Oh, thou of little faith,’ ” quoted Wynne, reproach- 
fully. “I would be ashamed to confess it.” 

“What we do now ?” asked Quebracho, who had grown 
weary of much talk. 

“We’ll try to arrange a plan for escape. That is the 
reason I made bold to come in here. I intimated to the 
old chief that I wished to soothe you, and he consented.” 

“If we could only understand his language,” said 
Thekla, glancing wistfully at the stranger who was 
standing in a disconsolate attitude nearby, “we might be 
able to arrange a plan. Wynne, see if you can’t find my 


250 The Stranger is Identified. 

coat. Perhaps the photograph of the cryptogram will 
accomplish something.” 

‘‘I’ll try to get it. But I don’t know how I can ask 
for a coat by playing, a tune. I’ll start up in here to pre- 
pare them for my august presence.” 

He struck up a ditty and left the cell. He returned 
within five minutes with the photograph. 

“No trouble at all,” he explained, cheerily. “I made 
a few motions, and the old chief tumbled right away.” 

Thekla held the photograph under the ray of light, and 
beckoned to the stranger. The man advanced hesita- 
tingly, but he had barely taken one swift glance when his 
manner instantly changed. 

Snatching the picture from the young botanist’s hand, 
he eagerly scrutinized it. His excitement was intense. 
He laughed and wept, and then laughed again. He 
shook hands with all three, and nodded his head to in- 
dicate that he recognized the cryptogram. 

As a further proof he pointed to the photograph and 
then to himself, and finally made a motion as if he was 
writing. The question was settled. All three felt fully 
assured that he was the man they were seeking. Thekla 
labored hard to learn if he was the explorer who had en- 
tered the valley with Quebracho’s father seven years pre- 


The Stranger is Identified. 251 

vious. He pointed to the Indian, made a motion as if 
falling from a great height, and then held up seven 
fingers. 

The stranger watched the pantomime carefully, and at 
its conclusion nodded his head vigorously. He made a 
sweeping gesture with his hands to indicate the valley, 
and also exhibited seven fingers. The identification was 
complete. 

“We have found him at last,” exclaimed the young 
botanist, joyfully. “He is the American explorer. Que- 
bracho, who entered this place with your poor father.” 

“I wish he talk,” replied the Indian, regretfully. 
“Maybe he tell who killed my father.” He drew himself 
up and clinched his hands, adding: “Maybe them mur- 
derers still alive here.” 

“Seven years is a long time. I hardly think you could 
find them.” 

“What puzzles me,” spoke up Wynne, “is his ignorance 
of English. Gee-whiz! he couldn’t have forgotten the 
language.” 

“Don’t thresh old straw, chum,” said Thekla, impa- 
tiently. “He has proved to our satisfaction that he is 
the explorer, and that he sent the cryptogram. He can’t 
speak English, or he would talk now. He is not crazy^ 


252 The Stranger is Identified. 

you can see that for yourself. Now the question is, can 
he help us to escape from this valley?” 

As if in reply, the explorer attracted their attention by 
making his gesture to indicate the valley. He then 
glanced wistfully upward and moved his arms as if 
flying. 


CHAPTER XXXII. 


THE STORM. 

'Tt does not require an expert to read that/’ exclaimed 
Thekla. “He asks us in the plainest terms if we would 
like to escape.” 

All three nodded their heads with great promptness. 
During the following five minutes there was much ges- 
ticulation on the part of all. At the expiration of that 
time the occupants of the little cell were in perfect accord. 

“Now as to our plans,” said the young botanist, in 
more hopeful tones than he had used for several days. 

“We must do something without delay,” replied 
Wynne. “I am in favor now, but there is no telling 
how soon they will turn.” 

“Let me see ; we have been in the valley three days 
now. How long will it be before your men have that 
grass ladder finished. Quebracho?” 

“Ten days more,” replied the Indian. 

“Gee-whiz ! that settles that part of it,” exclaimed 
Wynne. “I can’t stand the strain that length of time.” 

“It is our only hope, as far as I can see,” admitted 
Thekla. “The explorer here apparently can’t help us.” 


254 The Storm. 

“If there had been a way to escape he would have gone 
long ago.” 

“How he get leaf out?” suddenly asked Quebracho. 

The two boys exchanged glances. The question had 
never occurred to them. The bundle of sarsaparilla must 
have been cast into some stream of water flowing from 
the valley. But if that was the case, why had he not at- 
tempted to escape instead of sending a message? 

“Confound it! why can’t he talk?” exclaimed Thekla, 
despairingly. “Ten words from him would explain 
everything.” 

Resorting to motions once more, he tried his utmost 
to question the explorer, but without avail. It was pain- 
ful to witness the man’s attempt to grasp his meaning, 
and the lad finally ceased. 

Presently a murmur of voices outside indicated that the 
old chief and his companions were growing impatient. 
Wynne became alarmed and whispered: 

“I must leave you now. I’ll try my best to keep them 
in order, and perhaps the trick will work until the ladder 
is ready. Don’t make any rash moves, whatever you do.” 

“See if you can’t have us attached to your bodyguard,” 
suggested Thekla, as his chum moved toward the door. 
“It is advisable to keep together as much as possible.” 

“I’ll try,” replied the little hunchback. 


The Storm. 


255 

He left the cell, and presently the sounds of his violin 
floated back. In the course of an hour the explorer was 
called out by the old chief. He was evidently reluctant 
to leave his new friends, but he was compelled to obey 
the summons. 

That afternoon several guards appeared, and made 
signs indicating that the prisoners were to follow them. 
Nothing loath, they left the cell, but instead of being 
taken to Wynne, they were escorted to the vast cornfield 
near where Quebracho had killed the hound. 

“Wynne has evidently failed,” whispered Thekla, con- 
siderably disappointed. “Confound it, I was in hopes we 
could be with him.” 

They were given primitive utensils of stone and or- 
dered to dig in a newly opened field. Four armed natives 
were placed over them. All that day they labored with- 
out rest. At nightfall they were taken back to their 
former cell. 

The following morning at daybreak found them in the 
field. The work was hard and unremitting. At noon 
they were given a frugal lunch, and when the shades of 
night brought welcome respite they both felt the strain of 
unaccustomed toil. 

This continued without change for ten days. During 
that time neither Thekla nor Quebracho caught sight of 


256 


The Storm. 


Wynne or the explorer. The former’s violin was heard 
at odd intervals, generally with the evening chant, and it 
was the only indication that the little hunchback was still 
acting in his capacity of deity in general. 

At noon on the tenth day, while they vvere partaking 
of their simple repast, Thekla, who had spent the morn- 
ing in brooding silence, turned to his companion and said, 
firmly : 

“Quebracho, I can’t stand this any longer. If we don’t 
make a break soon. I’ll do something desperate. Here 
it has been over a week since we saw Wynne, and we are 
still working like confounded slaves in these fields.” 

“I think same as you about it,” replied the Indian. ‘T 
say to myself this day that something must be done. 
Ladders may be all right by now. My friends good 
workers ; they know we come back soon, and they make 
ladders in hurry.” 

“Then you think they are ready?” asked the lad, 
eagerly. 

“Yes, I guess they all fixed.” 

“Then we’ll attempt to escape to-night.” 

“How you do it?” 

“The only thing we can do, as far as I can see, is to 
make a dash for it.” 

Quebracho shook his head in evident disapproval. 


The Storm. 257 

“We try that once in big room/’ he said. “It is no 
use; we get killed in few minutes by natives. They too 
many for us.” 

“Then what can we do?” 

“It better try to see Wynne. Maybe he know where 
guns and revolvers are. If we get them we maybe scare 
people plenty. Anyway” — ^the Indian’s voice sank to a 
vindictive whisper — “we get chance to kill lots before 
we die.” 

“There is certainly some satisfaction in that. But I 
don’t know how we can see Wynne without we boldly 
demand it.” 

“That no easy with motions,” smiled Quebracho. “We 
wait until night; maybe something happen then.” 

“It promises to be a good evening for an escape,” re- 
marked Thekla, as they resumed their work. “See that 
heavy mass of clouds banking over the mountains.” 

“It look like big storm. Maybe rain and thunder and 
lightning.” 

In the course of an hour the sky over the valley, which 
had been an interminable stretch of blue since their ar- 
rival, became overcast. The day darkened rapidly, 
somber masses of vapor veiled the mountain peaks, and 
at last occasional flaslies of lightning appeared in the 
eastern horizon. 


258 


The Storm, 


The guards began to show uneasiness. It was evident 
they feared the warring of the elements. A full hour 
before the usual time for quitting, a sudden crash of 
thunder sent them scurrying toward the “cone-house’’ 
wdth the prisoners. 

When within several hundred feet of their destination 
the storm broke in all its fury. Vivid flashes of light- 
ning shot athwart the lowering sky; the thunderous roar 
of Heaven’s artillery shook the earth; the rain poured 
down with tropical intensity. 

Just before the little party reached the foot of the spiral 
gallery a forked bolt of lightning flashed from the sky 
and struck the top of the cone. The terrific report that 
followed seemed to Thekla the very annihilation of all 
things. 

He and his companions were thrown violently to the 
earth. A moment later they were brought to their feet 
by a terrible crashing noise just over their heads. 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 


THE FLIGHT TO THE SUMMIT. 

Cries of mortal fear came from the guards. Looking 
upward, they saw the shattered fragments of the colossal 
statue which had crowned the summit, crashing down 
the side of the cone-shaped structure. 

Although evidently terrified. Quebracho managed to 
recover his presence of mind in time to avert a disaster. 
Throwing his powerful right arm around Thekla, he 
lifted him bodily from his feet, and darted up the gallery 
to one of the cell-like openings in the side. 

They were barely under shelter when, with a terrible 
thud, a mass of stone struck the parapet of the gallery 
not ten feet away. Other pieces followed at rapid inter- 
vals until at last the opening was almost choked with the 
debris of the statue. 

Once fully assured that the danger was over, Thekla 
proceeded to put a newly conceived plan in operation. 
Standing on tiptoe, he shouted into Quebracho’s ear : 

“Now is our chance to find Wynne. See! the guards 
have disappeared.” . 

The Indian nodded vehemently. Catching the lad by 


a6o Tlie Flight to tlie Summit. 

the arm, he scrambled over the fragments of stone and 
started up the winding gallery. The route was familiar; 
they had traveled it morning and evening for many days. 

Both were wild with excitement. The opportunity 
they had been longing for, praying for, had arrived at 
last. Everything favored them now. The storm still 
raged; the night was coming on apace; the natives were 
evidently demoralized. 

“It is now or never!” muttered Thekla, between his 
set teeth, as he scrambled along with the Indian. 

Suddenly his companion stopped and pushed him into 
an adjacent doorway, but not before the lad had caught 
sight of the top of the old chief’s conical hat over the 
sloping edge of the stone wall. 

Both peered forth in time to see the chief and a num- 
ber of companions stride into view. They halted and 
with hoarse cries of excitement pointed up to where the 
vacant platform at the summit told of the lightning’s 
deadly work. 

While leaning backward to avoid observation, Thekla 
felt the door behind him move slightly. He instantly 
threw it open, and the two stepped into a cell similar to 
that occupied by them. They saw the shadowy outlines 
of another door at the opposite end. 


The Flight to the Summit. 


261 


“Hurrah! it may lead into the great room,” exclaimed 
the young botanist. 

It did not require much time to prove that his surmise 
was correct. The wooden panel yielded to their touch, 
and the fugitives found themselves looking into the co- 
lossal chamber with its towering statue of gold. 

To their delight they saw Wynne standing near the 
marble throne. The little hunchback appeared greatly 
alarmed. He was glancing confusedly about as if medi- 
tating flight. 

Thekla uttered an old familiar call formerly used by 
the boys and rushed forward, followed by Quebracho. 
At almost the same moment the explorer appeared at the 
entrance to another cell. 

The four met midway between the statue and the side 
of the apartment. Wynne’s face was suffused with joy. 

“Thank Heaven you are here!” he cried. “There’s 
danger afoot.” 

“What is the matter?” quickly asked Thekla. 

“The lightning has shattered the statue at the summit, 
and the natives are crazy. From the way they act I think 
they believe it is a judgment against me. The old chief 
actually shook his fist in my face, and laughed at the 
violin. We must ” 

He was interrupted by a hoarse shout, and a mob of 


262 


The Flight to the Summit. 

natives headed by the venerable chief rushed through one 
of the narrow entrances. The men were armed with 
their primitive weapons, and it was evident they meant 
trouble. 

“Wynne, do you know where our guns are?” hastily 
asked Thekla. 

“They were placed in front of the statue on the upper 
platform.” 

“We must get them ; it is our only chance.” 

“Maybe they lost when statue fell,” said Quebracho. 

“We will look for them anyway. If we can reach the 
platform before these fiends, we’ll have some show for 
our lives.” 

During the hurried conversation the little band of pris- 
oners had instinctively retreated to where the inner gal- 
lery began the ascent toward the dome-shaped roof. 

Just as they gained the first incline a dozen natives 
burst through a door within a few feet of it. With gut- 
tural cries of rage, the newcomers sprang to the attack 
with the evident intention of cutting of¥ the retreat. 

They reckoned without the knowledge of Quebracho’s 
fighting capabilities. The Indian’s long-smoldering rage 
was fanned into a sudden blaze. With a yell of defiance 
he dashed aside the weapon of the man nearest him, and. 


The Flight to the Summit. 263 

grasping him around the middle, raised the fellow above 
his head. 

There was a sharp cry of fear, the swish of a heavy 
body flying through the air, then five of the startled na- 
tives went down as if mown by a machine gun. 

At almost the same moment the energies in the ex- 
plorer, which had lain dormant for seven long years, 
awoke. He uttered no sound, but, springing upon the 
nearest native, he seized his stone-pointed lance. Draw- 
ing back his arm he sent the weapon straight into the 
breast of another of the enemy. 

Now thoroughly aroused, the two men would have 
continued the attack upon the natives if Thekla had not 
uttered a cry of warning. The lad’s sharp eyes had dis- 
covered a significant retreat of the old chief and his 
cohorts. 

“If we want the guns, we haven’t any time to lose,” he 
exclaimed. “The chief and his men have taken to the 
outer gallery. They evidently suspect our purpose.” 

“You right,” hastily replied Quebracho. “We go 
now.” 

“It’ll be a race,” said Wynne, as he nimbly ran up the 
incline. “Come on, fellows.” 

The inner gallery wound around the interior of the 
vast room four separate times before it ended at the dome. 


264 


The Flight to the Summit. 


On reaching the second curve the fugitives caught sight 
of several men flitting past an opening in the thick wall. 

It was indeed a race, and the stake was sweet life itself. 

At the middle curve of the third gallery a man ap- 
peared in one of the cell doors. He glanced down and 
saw the four fugitives not a dozen feet away. He dis- 
appeared with a howl of terror. 

On ran the two lads and their companions — on, on, 
until at last they reached the flnal stretch. Just in ad- 
vance of them they saw an oblong opening in the lower 
curve of the dome, its outlines forming a darker blur in 
the gloom of the interior. 

As if by mutual consent, all four stopped before reach- 
ing it. Looking down over the edge of the gallery, they 
saw a surging mass of natives surrounding the golden 
statue. Flaring torches here and there cast a ruddy 
light over the scene, bringing out in bold relief the white 
tunics of the mob. 

A hoarse murmur, increasing at times to an angry 
roar, came from below. 

“They are pretty mad,” remarked Wynne, quaintly. 
“I wouldn’t like to drop in on them just now.” 

After a brief pause the little party hurried through the 
opening at the end of the gallery, and, after climbing a 


The Flight to the Summit. 265 

dozen stone steps, they emerged upon the platform form- 
ing the summit of the cone. 

The storm had ceased. Through occasional rifts in 
the clouds the last rays of the setting sun illumined the 
valley. The light was strong enough to enable the fu- 
gitives to see that they were just in time. 

As they hurriedly scrambled over the fragments of the 
colossal stone statue of the sacred ape, the old chief, ac- 
companied by a score of armed guards, appeared at the 
opposite edge of the platform. 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 


THE RETREAT TO THE SUMMIT. 

Quebracho was essentially a man of action and a war- 
rior. A leader in his tribe, and famed for his prowess 
in battle, he had fought many a hard combat, but never 
before had he felt the thirst for blood as strongly as when 
he saw the old chief and his cohorts appear over the op- 
posite edge of the platform. 

He did not stop to exchange views, to weigh words, 
or to map out a plan of action — that was not his nature. 
Springing forward he hurled himself upon the advancing 
natives. 

The platform was small, hardly more than twenty feet 
square, and the debris from the shattered statue had en- 
cumbered it with fragments of stone. The Indian had 
not taken this into account, and his foot slipped just as 
he seized the old chief. 

He went down, dragging his antagonist with him. 
The other natives pressed forward with their weapons 
poised for action. Another second and the faithful In- 
dian would have met defeat and death if help had not 


The Retreat to the Summit. 267 

come in the shape of a piece of stone hurled by the ex- 
plorer. 

The missile flew through the air with deadly aim, strik- 
ing the foremost of the enemy full in the chest. There 
was a crunching sound and the man fell in his tracks. 
His body formed a stumbling block for the others, and in 
an instant a number were heaped up in a struggling mass. 

Thekla and Wynne, accompanied by the explorer, 
hastily made their way across the intervening space, pick- 
ing up fragments of stone as they ran. Just then Que- 
bracho extricated himself from the jumble. His face 
was bleeding from a dozen cuts and his white tunic was 
almost torn from his body. 

There was an expression of savage exultation upon his 
face, however, and he lost little time in resuming the 
fray. Assisted by his three companions he made a fierce 
attack on the natives, and after a brief period of hot fight- 
ing, they turned and fled down the outer gallery. 

The victors, flushed with their triumph, aided their re- 
treat by rolling fragments of stone after them, but the 
remnants of the invading force succeeded in gaining one 
of the numerous openings in safety. 

As the last one disappeared Quebracho tossed up his 
arms and gave vent to an exultant cry. 

'That good,” he added to the boys, with a grim 


268 


The Retreat to the Summit, 


chuckle. “That best fight I had for years. I wish they 
come back now. I make vow I kill ten men for my 
father.” 

“From all appearances you will certainly succeed,” re- 
plied Thekla, glancing down the sloping sides of the cone. 

Heads could be seen here and there in the openings, 
and near the base a score of the natives had gathered 
around one of the minor chiefs. Weapons were bran- 
dished in the direction of the summit, and a murmuring 
sound, deep and angry, came to the ears of the little 
party. 

An instant search was made for the guns and revolvers 
j;aken from Thekla and his two companions. One — the 
Indian’s rifle — was found broken and useless under a 
mass of debris. 

Wynne presently came across a belt of revolver car^ 
cridges near the shattered base of the statue. While the 
explorer watched the enemy the others continued the 
quest. 

The bolt of lightning had riven the colossal statue of 
the Sacred Ape from head to feet. It had fallen apart, 
and in striking the platform had broken into hundreds 
of pieces. 

It was no easy task to overhaul the debris, but it was 
accomplished at last, and with unsatisfactory results. 


The Retreat to the Summit. 269 

Not a trace of the other gun and revolvers could be 
found. 

“That’s bad,” commented Thekla, gravely. “I con- 
fess I depended on finding them. The possession of even 
one would have aid ” 

He was interrupted by a sudden cry from Wynne, who 
had walked to the opposite side of the platform. The 
little hunchback was standing perilously near the edge. 
He was pointing downward. 

“Thekla, Quebracho,” he shouted; “I see something. 
It looks like a revolver, and it’s caught on a jagged spur 
of rock.” 

Hurrying to his side the young botanist and the In- 
dian peered over the rim of the platform, and saw about 
six feet below one of the revolvers wedged in a crevice 
on the rough stone side of the cone. The weapon had 
evidently caught in its strange position while falling 
from the summit. 

“We must get it,” cried Thekla. “With it and the 
belt of cartridges we can face those fiends below.” 

“I have plan,” announced Quebracho, quickly. He 
turned to Wynne and added : “You afraid to be lowered 
down there?” 

“No, indeed ; not in a case like this. I am ready.” 

Without further ado he laid full length upon the plat- 


270 The Retreat to the Summit. 

form with his head projecting over the edge. Quebracho 
called the explorer and the two men gradually pushed the 
lad over until he hung down the side. Cautiously reach- 
ing out his right hand, Wynne grasped the revolver by 
the barrel. A sigh of relief came from Thekla, who was 
watching the feat, when his chum was dragged back to a 
place of safety. 

“Thank goodness that is over,” he said. Extending 
his hand, he added, heartily: “Wynne, you are a brick. 
Not every boy would be brave enough to risk his life like 
that.” 

“That’s so,” agreed Quebracho. 

The little hunchback blushed with pleasure. To be 
complimented for bravery was a novel experience to him. 

“We get ready for them natives now,” said the Indian, 
briskly. “It almost dark and maybe they try to attack 
us bimeby.” 

By. his advice barricades of stone were erected in front 
of the entrances to the two galleries. The smaller frag- 
ments — those capable of easy handling — were piled in 
convenient heaps. 

Quebracho, who was not a bad tactician, divided the 
little force into two parts. He placed the explorer and 
Wynne at the end of the outer gallery and together with 
Thekla prepared to defend the other entrance. 


The Retreat to the Summit. 


271 


By the time these preparations were complete darkness 
had fallen. The sky had again grown overcast, and the 
night promised to be intensely black. This fact was 
hailed with joy by the defenders of the platform. 

“It won’t help the natives any because we can easily 
hear them approach,” said Thekla, “and it will be greatly 
in our favor if we conclude to make an attempt to escape 
before morning.” 

“I think we better do that,” replied Quebracho, in a 
low voice. “It no good to wait here until daytime. If 
we escape at all we must go in darkness.” 

“It will be mighty risky passing all those openings at 
any time.” 

“No more than staying here without food and drink. 
I think we wait until just before dawn, then we go down 
outside.” 

“If we can manage to reach the plain our chances will 
be good. That is, if your men have finished the ladder.” 

Quebracho leaned over the opening leading to the in- 
ner gallery, and listened intently for a moment before 
replying. Satisfied that all was well, he resumed his 
former position. 

“The ladder is ready,” he said, convincingly. “We 
find it there when we get to end of ” 

He was interrupted by a sharp cry from Wynne. Im- 


2J2 The Retreat to the Summit. 

mediately following came a rattling of stones down the 
side of the cone. Leaving the Indian to guard their sta- 
tion, Thekla, who carried the revolver, ran toward the 
other barricade. 

Before he had taken more than ten steps he heard 
Quebracho utter a shout of defiance, then certain unmis- 
takable sounds coming through the darkness indicated 
that the Indian was engaged in defending the exit from 
the inner gallery. 

The enemy was attacking in force. 


CHAPTER XXXV. 


THE BREAKING OF THE LADDER OF VINES. 

For one brief moment the lad stood irresolute. He 
felt that his services were needed at both places, then his 
faith in Quebracho’s prowess sent him scurrying to the 
barricade defended by Wynne and the explorer. 

He found the two struggling desperately with a force 
of natives who had succeeded in overthrowing part of 
the barricade. Above the tumult came the hoarse cries 
of the explorer and the little hunchback’s shrill shouts. 
At first it was impossible for Thekla to distinguish friend 
from foe. 

He finally caught sight of a dim figure, which he rec- 
ognized as that of his chum, struggling with a stalwart 
native. Thrusting his revolver within a foot of the fel- 
low, the lad pulled the trigger. 

There was a flash, a sharp report, and the man stag- 
gered backward to the edge of the platform. He strug- 
gled desperately to save himself, but failed, and with a 
convulsive plunge, he disappeared down the sloping side 
of the cone. 

Another shot came from Thekla’s weapon, and a sec- 


274 Breaking of tke Ladder of Vines. 

one! native fell. The strange flashes and the deafening 
reports, together with the fatal results, had an imme- 
diate effect upon the remainder of the enemy. Uttering 
cries of alarm, they turned and fled pell-mell down the 
gallery. 

Leaving the explorer to hasten their flight with judi- 
ciously aimed fragments of the broken statue, Thekla and 
Wynne hurried to Quebracho’s aid. They were not a 
moment too soon. Groans and cries, the fierce shouts of 
men engaged in mortal combat, the clattering of stones, 
and a tumult of angry voices came to their ears as they 
darted across the platform. In the darkness the lads 
collided with the antagonists. 

Thekla felt himself seized about the waist with a 
brawny arm, but he wrenched himself free with a su- 
preme effort and quickly pulled the trigger of his re- 
volver. The glaring flash revealed to him a most star- 
tling scene. 

Fully a score of the enemy had pressed their way above 
the edge of the opening. The barricade had been lev- 
eled and Quebracho was fighting desperately against 
overwhelming odds. It was a moment for decisive ac- 
tion, and the young botanist lost no time in beginning. 

Having located the Indian, he quickly fired several 
shots into the swarming mass of natives, while Wynne 


The Breaking of the Ladder of Vines. 27^ 

added his quota in the shape of a fragment of stone 
shrewdly aimed. 

The result was additional proof that the inhabitants of 
the Valley of Mystery were totally unacquainted with 
firearms. Like their companions in the other attack, they 
were dumfounded and terrified by the explosions of the 
cartridges. 

Those nearest to the opening dropped down in total 
disregard of their necks, and others wildly fought their 
way to the edge of the platform. Thekla sent a shot 
after them, and in the twinkling of an eye the space was 
clear with the exception of the defenders and the bodies 
of the slain. 

The young botanist was quick-witted enough to see 
that it was an opportunity not to be neglected. With the 
natives demoralized and terror-stricken, it might be pos- 
sible to descend the outer gallery without interference. 

Quebracho favored the idea, and advised an imme- 
diate start. Stones were hurled down the sloping sides 
of the cone as an indication that the little garrison was 
still alert, then the four slipped from the platform. 

They had succeeded in descending fully one-half the 
distance before aught occurred. While passing an open- 
ing leading to the great room a torch was thrown out at 
their feet. A score of dark, threatening faces dimly out- 


276 The Breaking of the Ladder of Vines. 

lined in the passage indicated that the enemy had discov- 
ered their retreat. 

A shot from Thekla’s revolver put them to instant 
flight, and the little party proceeded unmolested to the 
bottom of the winding gallery. As they stepped out on 
the plain, a number of stones were hurled from the sum- 
mit, luckily without striking any of the fugitives. 

“Fire away,” shouted Thekla, exultantly. “We are as 
good as saved now.” 

After running a short distance from the base Que- 
bracho stopped. The four had clasped hands to prevent 
being separated in the darkness. The Indian’s action 
brought an anxious query from the young botanist. 

“Me no can tell which way we go,” was the disquieting 
reply. “It too dark, maybe we go wrong direction.” 

“Let’s get away from the vicinity of those dreadful 
natives,” spoke up Wynne. 

“I think it is best to proceed,” agreed Thekla. “We 
may bring up against one of the side cliffs, in which case 
we can hide in the forest until daylight.” 

A sudden outburst of angry shouts from the direction 
of the “cone house” decided the question. Without fur- 
ther argument the flight was resumed. 

The tall grass made progress slow, and it was fully an 


The Breaking of the Ladder of Vines. 277 

hour before the thickening of the underbrush indicated 
the end of the plain. 

Slowly making their way through a fringe of trees, the 
fugitives came upon the bank of a stream. From the 
noisy brawling of the water it was apparent that the cur- 
rent was both rapid and turbulent. By mutual consent it 
was decided to wait until early dawn before proceeding 
farther. 

“We are some distance from the ^cone house,’ and 
fairly well hidden, so I think we run less risks in re- 
maining here than by wandering on in the darkness,” re- 
marked Thekla. 

It was a long and anxious wait. The time dragged 
heavily to all save Quebracho. That philosophical In- 
dian coolly stretched himself out upon a bed of soft grass 
and slept the sleep of the just. If the truth was known, 
however, his slumber was that of a cat — with one eye 
open. 

The first signs of day found the party on the move. 
The, grayish light preceding dawn revealed their situa- 
tion. In their wandering they had crossed to the right 
cliff. Not far away was the turn in the valley which hid 
the end where each hoped safety awaited. 

Occasional glimpses of the “cone house,” as seen 
through the trees, revealed a state of great activity on 


278 The Breaking of the Ladder of Vines. 

the part of the natives. The gallery swarmed with them, 
and, gathered at the base were a number of armed men 
evidently preparing for the pursuit. 

The sight was sufficient to send the fugitives down the 
edge of the valley at their utmost speed. In an incred- 
ibly short space of time they reached the turn. As they 
rounded the spur of cliif hiding the end of the valley 
all eagerly glanced at the distant face of the precipice. 
There was an instant’s hesitation, then a rousing cheer 
came from the two boys and the Indian. 

Faintly outlined against the glistening background af- 
forded by the face of the cliff was a slender ladder lead- 
ing from the upper edge to the bottom of the valley. A 
couple of pigmy figures were visible upon the summit. 
Tliey were Quebracho’s faithful allies. 

The explorer was not less excited than his companions. 
Their actions and the ladder itself told the story even 
more plainly than words could. When he saw that 
safety was almost within his grasp — safety after seven 
long years of captivity, he raised his hands solemnly to- 
ward heaven. 

Wynne acted like a child. He danced and capered 
about and waved the branch of a tree in fond belief that 
he could be seen by the Indians upon the cliff. Thekla 
and Quebracho shook hands again and again. 


The Breaking of the Ladder of Vines. 279 

When this pardonable ebullition of spirits had passed the 
happy party resumed the flight. Chatting and laughing, 
they covered the ground at a rapid speed. Thekla even 
halted to pick another specimen of the Plant of Gold, and 
Wynne fell to mentally calculating the value of the golden 
breastplate, which he still wore. 

Suddenly Quebracho, who was slightly in advance, 
stopped with a terrible cry. With shaking hand he 
pointed out to his companions the figures of two men 
who were evidently creeping toward the unsuspecting 
Indians at the edge of the cliff. 

The distance was short, and the boys recognized with 
sinking hearts the identity of the newcomers. They were 
Cyclops McGinnis and Brocky Sinn. That they intended 
ill was plainly evident by their actions. Cyclops was in 
advance and, as he crept along like some wild beast, he 
silently brandished his steel hook. 

Almost frantic with mingled rage and excitement, 
Thekla leveled his revolver, hoping against hope that 
even if he missed his aim, the report would warn the im- 
periled Indians. Before he could pull the trigger, how- 
ever, the two scoundrels leaped upon their victims. 

Taken completely by surprise, there was no time for 


28 o The Breaking of the Ladder of Vines. 

resistance. With one horrible shriek the poor natives 
went spinning from the edge of the cliff. Thekla and 
Wynne, unnerved by the terrible sight, buried their faces 
in their hands. When they looked again they saw the 
murderers preparing to descend the ladder of vines. 

Filled with indignation, the young botanist again pre- 
pared to fire his revolver. As he aimed it his hand was 
dashed aside. Turning, he saw Quebracho. The man 
was almost unrecognizable. His face was livid, great 
beads of perspiration bedewed his forehead and his eyes 
gleamed like living coals. 

“No, no,” he exclaimed, hoarsely; “no shoot, little 
m.aster. Leave to me, leave to me. They kill my men — 
I kill them. Ah-h-h-h ! they die this hour ; they die like 
dogs. Leave to me, little master.” 

He started toward the base of the cliff silently followed 
by his companions. Reaching a place within convenient 
distance of the end of the ladder, fhe little party crouched 
in the shelter of a bush and eagerly watched the slow de- 
scent of Cyclops and Brocky. 

When they had gained a distance of probably ten feet 
from the bottom Thekla offered the revolver to Que- 
bracho, but it was quietly refused. The Indian had other 


The Breaking of the Ladder of Vines. 281 

plans. A moment later a startled cry came from the de- 
scending men, and they were seen to fall headlong to the 
ground with the greater length of their frail support 
about their ears. 

The ladder had parted near the summit of the cliff ! 


CHAPTER XXXVI. 


CONCLUSION. 

To Thekla and Wynne and the explorer the sudden 
parting of the ladder of vines near the summit of the cliff 
came as a most dreadful calamity. To them it was as 
if the cup of life itself had been rudely dashed from 
their grasp while in the act of quaffing. 

They experienced the feelings of a lion tamer in a 
cage of suddenly enraged beasts with the door unac- 
countably fastened, and help far away. The valley was 
a cage — and the natives inhabiting it so many wild beasts. 

The fourth member of the party experienced no such 
emotions. The human mind is incapable of containing 
more than one strong passion at one time. Quebracho’s 
whole heart and soul were engrossed by a single desire 
— revenge. 

The breaking of the ladder, the loss of their only hope 
of escape was nothing to him for the moment. He only 
feared that the fall of the two murderers had robbed him 
of his purpose. 

Leaping from behind the bush, he ran to the mass of 
underbrush into which they had fallen. His companions 


Conclusion. 283 

followed not far behind. When within several feet of 
the spot the branches of a mimosa bush were pressed 
aside, and the stumpy figure of Captain Brocky Sinn 
backed out. 

“Come on, mate,” he exclaimed, with a hoarse chuckle. 
“We are in the land ‘o’ gold at last, and we don’t want 
ter lose no time gittin’ the shiny stuff. Morgan’s wounds ! 
but that was a tidy fall. If it had been ten feet further 
we might have broken our ” 

At that moment he turned and saw the grim, half- 
naked figure of the man he dreaded more than any other 
on earth. His jaw dropped, he gave a gasp, then, with 
surprising agility, he dodged and fled into the thick 
brush. 

Quebracho moved as if with the intention of pursuing 
him, but his eyes fell upon the glint of a steel hook 
protruding from the bush, and he waited. Thekla and 
the others leaned forward with wide-open eyes and half- 
parted lips. They saw the Indian draw himself to- 
gether and heard his fingers crack as he clinched his 
hands in preparation for a supreme effort. 

Grumbling hoarsely, Cyclops came into sight. He 
was intent on picking his way to clear ground, and he 
did not observe the giant native standing slightly in the 
shade of a tree until he was within three feet of him. 


284 


Conclusion. 


When he saw Quebracho he gave a start and his face 
paled slightly. Recovering his composure with an ef- 
fort, he extended his sound hand and exclaimed, nerv- 
ously : 

“Why, death of my peeper ! if it ain’t th’ native ! Ho, 
ho! an’ there’s my boys, Thekla and Wynne. How air 
ye ? How ” 

His voice died away, and he began to back uneasily 
away from the reach of that grim, accusing figure. As 
he stepped to the rear, Quebracho followed him. The 
Indian’s lithe, strong body was crouched like that of a 
tiger before its leap. His face was set and as rigid as 
marble. 

Cyclops McGinnis undoubtedly realized in his heart 
that he was at last face to face with his doom. He was 
not a coward, and he meant to fight it out to the end. 
He had not the slightest intention of pleading for mercy 
— in fact, he knew full well that he could expect none. 

He glanced once at the tense, eager faces of the lads, 
then his solitary eye passed to his foe. His backward 
movements ceased. Gathering himself, he extended his 
powerful arms and leaped full upon Quebracho. The 
rays of the morning sun flashed from his polished steel 
hook for a second, then its luster was dimmed by a 
bright red fluid. 


Conclusion. 285 

In the leap he had caught his antagonist full in the 
side. A deep, jagged cut testified to the force of the 
blow. The wound acted upon the Indian like a spur to 
a fiery horse. His brawny arms clasped Cyclops’ body 
above the waist, there was a strange, crunching sound, 
then, with a hoarse, gurgling cry, the old sailor fell back, 
his head drooping upon his shoulder. 

Quebracho uttered one gasping shout of triumph, then 
he lifted the inert body above his head and flung it with 
terrific force against the glistening side of the cliff. The 
thud of the contact was followed by a crashing of 
branches, and the green leaves of a mimosa bush hid the 
remains of the man forever. It was a fitting end to a 
life of crime. 

Thekla and Wynne shivered as they stepped into the 
open. Such spectacles were new to them. They had not 
been hardened in the strife of man against man — a strife 
before which the combats of the beasts of the jungle pale 
into insignificance. 

The young botanist stanched the flow of blood from 
Quebracho’s wound, and bandaged it with a strip of cloth 
torn from his tunic. The Indian maintained a moody 
silence for a while; then he spoke, but not of the old 
sailor. That was a subject ever after tabooed by him. 
Glancing up at the dangling ends of the ladder, he said : 


286 


Conclusion. 


“We no get out that way. What we do now . 

Before Thekla could reply, the explorer produced the 
photograph of the cryptogram which he had been per- 
mitted to keep. Pointing to it, he made gestures to sig- 
nify that he would lead them to the spot where he had 
launched the bundle of sarsaparilla. It was evident from 
his actions, however, that he placed little hope in his sug- 
gestion. 

Quebracho hesitated, and glanced once in the direction 
taken by Brocky Sinn in his flight, then he shrugged his 
shoulders and set out with the others. He knew full well 
that a fate as fitting as any in his power awaited the 
murderer. 

The explorer led the way through the forest to the 
northern cliff ; then skirting it, he guided the party 
through the narrow strip of woods bordering the plain 
for fully three miles. Once only did they meet with 
signs of the natives. 

While passing a little knoll covered with tall grass and 
underbrush they saw a man standing upon the summit. 
He was evidently stationed as a spy or lookout. They 



observed him in time to retreat 


place a wide berth, they proceeded at a speed considerably 
augmented by the encounter. 

A half hour later they came to a brawling stream. 


Conclusion. 


287 


The explorer evinced satisfaction, and immediately struck 
out along the bank. After a while the river — for it was 
broad enough to deserve such a title — made an abrupt 
turn toward the face of the cliff. 

Hurrying on, the fugitives finally came in sight of a 
narrow opening in the base of the precipice. It was not 
more than ten feet in width, and in shape it was almost 
an angle, the sides meeting at the top. Through this 
crevice the stream rushed with a mighty upheaval of 
foam and an ominous roar. 

Thekla and Wynne involuntarily shook their heads 
when they saw the opening, and even Quebracho looked 
grave. The explorer indicated the tunnel-like opening 
with a movement of his hands, and shrugged his shoul- 
ders as if to say that it was their only chance. 

‘Tt is certain death if we remain in the valley,” said the 
young botanist, in a low voice, “and we can do no worse 
in that dark hole. But I confess that I do not fancy the 
attempt.” 

Wynne attempted to utter a protest, but his chattering 
teeth prevented him. It was evident he was in favor of 
facing a known danger. Quebracho ended the hesita- 
tion by quietly dragging the log of a tree to the bank of 
the torrent. 


288 Conclusion. 

“If we go we must go now/’ he said, preparing to 
launch the trunk. 

“We are certain of one thing,” said Thekla, unsteadily. 
“The cryptogram reached the Mazaruni River in some 
way. We should do the same/’ he paused, then added, 
slowly: “dead or alive.” 

The question settled, each member of the little party 
hastened their preparations feverishly. They were all 
clad in the white, loose tunics given them by the natives. 
Wynne wore, in addition, liis heavy breastplate of gold. 
He was advised to abandon it, but he refused. Thekla 
tied the precious specimens of the plant of gold he had 
secured in the folds of his tunic. 

When all was in readiness Quebracho turned and sol- 
emnly shook hands with his companions. Wynne, white 
of face and trembling in every limb, threw his arms 
around his chum, then at a word from the Indian, the 
four slipped into the brawling torrent with the log. 

The noontide sun beating down with tropdcsk fervency 
brought out in bold relief the bluffs lining the banks of 
the Mazaruni. It shone upon the masses of shrubbery 
and clinging vines along the edges of the cliffs, it 
sparkled gayly from the placid surface of the river and 


Conclusion. 


289 


made glowing rainbows in the foamy spray cast up by a 
tumultuous mass of waters rushing from a great, jagged 
tunnel in the face of the western precipice. 

A heavy winged buzzard flapping lazily near the open- 
ing suddenly shot upward and hovered inquisitively over 
a black object which the waters thrust out into the middle 
of the Mazaruni. The object was a log, and fastened 
to it with tenacious vines were the bodies of two men and 
two lads. 

One of the former — whose black and glistening skin 
proclaimed him a native — stirred uneasily and raised his 
head. He took one rapid glance at his surroundings and 
then began to paddle vigorously with his hands. After 
many minutes of unceasing labor, he succeeded in 
grounding the end of the log against the foot of an irreg- 
ular crevice or crack in the face of the cliff. 

In an incredibly short space of time he had succeeded 
in dragging his companions to firm ground. Presently 
the eyes of the two lads opened, but the fourth member 
of the little party — a white m.an, with a sweeping mus- 
tache and grizzled beard — remained in a sound stupor. 

The boys, who were — as the reader has probably 
guessed — Thekla and Wynne, staggered to their feet and 
glanced vacantly at their surroundings. When they at 


Conclusion. 


290 

last realized that they were safe, their exuberance of 
spirits knew no bounds. 

They were still too weak to do more than shout with 
joy, but that they did with a vim. In the meantime 
Quebracho had busied himself with the explorer. After 
several minutes of chafing and the plentiful use of 
water, he succeeded in restoring him to consciousness. 

A lacerated wound upon his head accounted for his 
previous insensibility. Sitting up with an effort, he 
looked at his companions with lack-luster eyes. Little by 
little they brightened. 

Suddenly he extended his hands to Thekla, who was 
nearest to him, and said, fervently : 

“Thank God! thank God!’' 

To the unbounded amazement of his hearers, the 
words, although broken and uttered in a stammering 
manner, were English! Quebracho, who was crouching 
nearby, sprang to his feet in alarm. Tcriris untutored 
mind the apparent miracle portended danger. 

Thekla and Wynne eyed the explorer with the liveliest 
interest. The former attempted to speak, but he was 
interrupted by a shout of joy thrilling in its intensity. 
An eager expression which had crept over the explorer’s 
face gave way to one of extreme gratitude. 


Conclusion. 


291 

Clasping his hands, he bowed his head, and murmured, 
brokenly : 

“I thank Thee for Thy mercy. I thank Thee that 
Thou hast restored me to liberty and permitted me to 
regain my own tongue.” 

There was a glad light in his eyes when he again looked 
up. He seemed to recover his strength in an instant. 
Springing erect, he embraced the boys with fervor. 

“A miracle ! a miracle !” he shouted. “For almost 
seven years I have been a stranger to the English lan- 
guage. And now, by the blessing of God, I am come 
into my own again. Listen ! Seven years ago I was 
lowered into the accursed valley, together with other 
Americans and a native. I was the last down, and the 
rope broke, permitting me to fall a distance of fifteen 
feet. 

“I struck my head, and on regaining consciousness 
found that all knowledge of my own language had left 
me. Our party was captured. The guide escaped in 
some manner, my companions were put to death, but I 
was spared for some mysterious purpose. As time passed 
I acquired the language of the natives. I was in full 
possession of my reason, and I suffered the torments of 
the damned. 

“I tried every way to escape, but without success. In 


292 


Conclusion. 


time I gave up hope and passed a living death until one 
day, while wandering through the valley, came across 
that tunnel under the cliffs. I could not muster courage 
to trust myself to it, but after much thought I inscribed 
a cryptogram of arbitrary botanical and geographical 
signs upon a leaf of the ‘plant of gold,’ and placed it in a 
bundle of sarsaparilla with my blessing. 

“That was many months ago. The hand of fate directed 
the course of my message, and, as a result, I am here, 
dear friends, with you now. It is a wonderful story, but 
it shows how our destinies are shaped by small things. 
I thank you, lads, and you, sir, for your kindness to me. 
To whom am I indebted for my rescue? My name is 
Roland Morse.” 

“Morse?” quickly exclaimed Thekla. “That is my 
name also.” 

“Indeed! And your first name?” 

“Thekla.” — - 

A sharp cry came from the explorer. Grasping the 
lad by the shoulders he glanced eagerly into his face. 

“Thekla Morse,” he exclaimed, hoarsely. “It is im- 
possible. No, the name — you cannot be Speak, 

boy, where is your father?” 

“I do not know, sir,” stammered Thekla, in bewilder- 
ment. “Mother died when I was a child, and father 


Conclusion. 


293 

went to some foreign country. He never returned 
and ” 

'‘Where were you brought up?” 

“In Williamton, near New York. Oh, sir, do you 
know where ” 

The question died in its birth. The lad found himself 
folded in the explorer’s arms, and as if from a distance 
he heard a voice saying, brokenly : 

“My son, my son!” 

He next became aware that he was being pulled about 
by the little hunchback. Shrill and loud arose his chum’s 
shouts of delight. For many minutes the occupants of 
the ledge of rock at the foot of the crevice acted as if 
they had really gone mad with joy. It was entirely too 
much happiness for one day. 

In time they sobered down enough to listen to mutual 
explanations. Mr. Morse told how he had joined a 
party of explorers bound to South America and its sub- 
sequent fate. And Thekla related in detail the minor 
adventures of his young life. 

After a while Quebracho strolled around a spur of 
rock, and, to his unbounded delight, found stranded in 

■ f A 

a cove the boat they had left tied at the bottom of the 
crevice. It was still sound, and little time was lost in 
embarking. 


294 


Conclusion. 


As they drifted away from the bank, Wynne uttered 
a doleful sigh and held up the golden breastplate to 
which he had clung through all their troubles. 

“What is the matter, chum?” asked Thekla. 

“Just to think that this is all we have, and that valley 
chock-full of the precious metal.” 

“Ungrateful wretch ! Haven’t we our lives ? And 
haven’t I two valuable specimens of the ‘plant of gold?’ 
They are worth five thousand dollars each.” 

“And here is something you must include in the in- 
ventory,” spoke up Mr. Morse, with a triumphant smile. 
“I did not leave empty-handed. I found this in the 
valley three years ago, and I guarded it in the hope that 
I would at last make my escape.” 

He held up a lusterless stone about the size of a hickory 
nut. It resembled in color a piece of alum, but the ex- 
plorer explained that it was really a diamori^ln the 
rough. 

“It will sell in its present state for at least thirty thou- 
sand dollars,” he added; “so you see we are not so un- 
fortunate, after all.” 

After many hardships the party at last reached the 
outpost of the colonial police. Captain Loyd welcomed 
them with open arms, and supplied them with food and 
clothing, which were both greatly needed. They re- 


Conclusion. 


295 

mained with him four days, and then took a river boat 
for the nearest steamer landing. 

In due time the unsightly River Pride, upon which 
the boys had left Georgetown, conveyed the party to the 
coast. Quebracho went with them at the earnest solicita- 
tion of Thekla and Wynne. 

They tried to induce their loyal friend to accompany 
them to the United States, but he refused, although evi- 
dently tempted. During the voyage down the Mazaruni, 
Mr. Morse had talked over a plan to revisit the Valley 
of Mystery with a large party of Americans. 

“I think, from my experience with the natives, that 
they will allow us to mine some of the gold,” he said, 
adding, significantly : “Especially if the request is made 
by a respectable force of armed men. We will keep the 
matter to ourselves, and if arrangements can be made 
with the Venezuelan Government, we will try it.” 

The probability of returning made the parting with 
Quebracho less keen. As the steamer bound for New 
York left the wharf at Georgetown, the Indian took his 
stand out upon the end of the last stringpiece. 

Thekla and his new-found father standing arm in arm, 
and the little hunchback, saw his giant figure grow 
smaller and smaller until at last it disappeared in the 
misty distance. 


296 Conclusion. 

But the memory of his noble spirit, his many lovable 
qualities, and his friendship for them will never fade. 

At last accounts the limited firm formed by “Roland 
Morse, Son & Co.” is almost ready to start for George- 
town. In due time the world will be startled by the un- 
precedented discovery of colossal mines in the mysterious 
mountain regions of that wonderful country — Venezuela. 

THE END. 


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. . Edward S. Ellis. 

With Boer and Britisher 

. . William Murray Graydon. 

Won at West Point 

. . Lieut. Lounsberry. 

Yankee Boys in Japan 

, . Henry Harrison Lewis. 

Young Acrobat 

, . Horatio Alger, Jr. 

Young Actor, The 

. Gayle Winterton. 

Young Bank Clerk, The 

. . Arthur M. Winfield. 

Young Editor 

..Matthew White, Jr. 

Young Showman’s Rivals, The. . 

. .Stanley Norris. 

Young Showman’s Pluck, The. . . 

. . Stanley Norris. 


Young Showman’s Triumph, The. . Stanley Norris. 


Young Bridge Tender, The 

..Arthur M. Winfield. 

Zig Zag, the Boy Conjuror 

..Victor St. Clair. 

Zip, the Acrobat 

. .Victor St. Clair. 


For sale by all booksellers, or sent, postpaid, on receipt of price 
by the publish' ts. Street & Smith., 238 William St., New York City. 


STREET & SMITH’S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 


BOOKS FOR BOYS. 

Boys’ Popular Library 

?7 Titles 

A new series of handsome i2mos, well printed and well 
bound, stamped in colors, containing the most popular stories by 

OLlVfiR OPTIC, GEORGE A. HENTY, 

CAPT. MAYNE RP:ID. GORDON STABLES, 

W. H. G. KINGSTON, HORATIO ALGER, JR. 

and other authors equally well known. 

There has long been a demand for a low-priced series of first- 
class books for young people, and we believe that we have here 
just what the boys want. 


PRICE, FIFTY CENTS PER VOLUME. 


For sale by all booksellers, or sent, postpaid, on receipt of price 
by the publishers. Street & Smith, 238 William St., New York City. 


STREET & SMITH’S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 


BOOKS FOR BOYS. 

Boys’ Popular Library. 


All Aboard 

. . Oliver Optic. 

Battle and a Boy, A 

. . .Blanche Willis Howard. 

Boat Club, The 

. . . Oliver Optic. 

Boy Crusoes 

. . Jefferys Taylor. 

Boy Tar, The 

. . . Captain Mayne Reid. 

Brave and Bold 

. . .Horatio Alger, Jr. 

By England’s Aid 

. . . G. A. Henty. 

By Pike and Dyke 

. . .G. A. Henty. 

By Right of Conquest 

. . .G. A. Henty. 

Captain Bayley’s Heir 

, . . G. A. Henty. 

Catmur’s Cave 

. . .Richard Dowling. 

Cliff Climber, The 

. . . Captain Mayne Reid. 

Cruise of the Snow Bird, The. . . 

. . Gordon Stables. 

Dick Cheveley 

...W. H. G. Kingston. 

For the Temple 



For sale by all booksellers, or sent, postpaid, on receipt of price 
by the publishers. Street & Smith, 238 William St., New York City. 


STREET & SMITH’S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 


BOOKS FOR BOYS. 

Boys’ Popular Library. — Continued. 

From Powder Monkey to Admiral. W. H. G. Kingston. 


Hendricks, the Hunter 

.W. H. G. Kingston. 

In the Wilds of New Mexico 

. George Manville Fenn. 

In Freedom’s Cause 

. .G. A. Henty. 

In Times of Peril 

. G. A. Henty. 

James Braithwaite 

.W. H. G. Kingston. 

Jerry 

.Walter Aimwell. 

Joe Nichols 

..Alfred Oldfellow. 

Little by Little 

..Oliver Optic. 

Life at Sea 

. Gordon Stables. 

Lion of St. Mark, The 

. G. A. Henty. 

Lion of the North, The 

. .G. A. Henty. 

Lone Ranch, The 

. Capt. Mayne Reid. 


Mark Seaworth’s Voyage on the Indian OceanW. H. G. Kingston 
Midshipman Marmaduke Merry. . . W. H. G. Kingston. 


For sale by all booksellers, or sent, postpaid, on receipt of price 
by the publishers. Street & Smith, 238 William St., New York City. 


STREET & SMITH’S BOOKS eOR YOUNG FEOfLe. 


BOOKS FOR BOYS. 

Boys’ Popular Library. — CoiitiniLed. 


Now or Never 

. . .Oliver Optic. 

Paul, the Peddler 

. . . Horatio Alger, Jr. 

Phil, the Fiddler 

. . . Horatio Alger, Jr. 

Peter Trawl 

. . . W. H. G. Kingston. 

Peter, the Whaler 

. . . W. H. G. Kingston. 

Ran Away to Sea 

. . . Capt. Mayne Reid. 

Robinson Crusoe 

. . . Daniel Defoe. 

Shore and Ocean 

. . . W. H. G. Kingston. 

Silver Ship, The 

Leon Lewis. 

Slow and Sure 

.. .Horatio Alger, Jr. 

Strive and Succeed 

... Horatio Alger, Jr. 

Strong and Steady 

. . . Horatio Alger, Jr. 

Swiss Family Robinson 

. . . Montelieu & Wyse. 

Three Years at Wolverton... 

. . . A Wolvertonian. 

Try Again 



For sale by all booksellers, or sent, postpaid, on receipt of price 
by the publishers. Street & Smith, 238 William St., New York City. 


STREET & SMITH’S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 


BOOKS FOR BOYS. 

Boys’ Popular Library. — Continued. 


Try and Trust 


Under Drake’s Flag 

G. A. Henty. 

Uncle Nat 


Way to Success 


Whistler 



Wild Adventures ’Round the Pole. Gordon Stables. 


With Lee in Virginia 

G. A. Henty. 

With Wolfe in Canada 

G. A. Henty. 

Young Carthaginian, The. . . . 

G. A. Henty. 

Young Vagabond, A 

Z. R. Bennett. 

Young Explorer, The 



For sale by all booksellers, or sent, postpaid, on receipt of price 
by the publishers. Street & Smith, 238 William St., New York City. 


STREET & SMITH’S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 

BOOKS FOR BOYS. 

The Rockspur Athletic Series 

By GILBERT PATTEN. 

Consists of three books, each being a good, clean story of 
athletic training, sports and contests, such as interest every 
healthy, growing boy of to-day. 

While aiming to avoid the extravagant and sensational, the 
stories contain enough thrilling incidents to please the lad who 
loves action and adventure. The description of their Baseball and 
Football Games and other contests with rival clubs and teams 
make very exciting and absorbing reading; and few boys with 
warm blood in their veins, having once begun the perusal of one of 
these books, will willingly lay it down till it is finished. 

1 — ^The Rockspur Nine. 

A story of Baseball. 

2— The Rockspur Eleven. 

A story of Football. 

3 — The Rockspur Rivals. 

A story of Winter Sports. 

Each volume contains about 300 pages, i2mo in size, cloth bind- 
ing, per volume, |i.oo 


For sale by all booksellers, or sent, postpaid, on receipt of price 
by the publishers. Street & Smith, 238 William St., New York City. 


STREET & SMITH’S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 


BOOKS FOR BOYS. 

A tale of true patriotism. 

Out With Commodore Decatur. 

By LIEUT. LIONEL LOUNSBERRY. 

Being the first volume of the Boys of Liberty Series. 

Tells of the stirring adventures of a youth who serves as a 
middy under Commodore Stephen Decatur during the War of 
1812. The historical setting is correct, and the volume will prove 
inspiring to any boy. Handsomely bound in cloth, fully illus- 
trated. PRICE, $1.00 

DARING ADVENTURES IN THE PHILIPPINES. 

Cast Av/ay in the Jungle. 

By VICTOR ST. CLAIR. 

Being the first volume of the Round World Series. 

Here is the tale of two wide-awake American lads who, as 
civil engineers just from college, journey to the island of Luzon 
to lay out a road through the trackless forest for a lumber com- 
pany. The volume is filled with adventures of a healthy kind and 
gives in addition much information concerning the Philippines and 
their strange inhabitants. Finely illustrated and bound in cloth, 
stamped in colors and gold PRICE, $1.25 


For sale by all booksellers, or sent, postpaid, on receipt of price 
by the publishers. Street & Smith, 238 William St., New York City, 


STREET & SMITH’S BOOKS FOR YOtlNG PEOPLE. 


BOOKS FOR BOYS. 

The Famous Frank Merriwell Stories 

By BURT h. STANDISH. 

No modern series of tales for boys and youths has met with 
anything like the cordial reception^ and popularity accorded to the 
Frank Merriwell Stories, published exclusively by this house. 

There must be a reason for this and there is. Frank Merri- 
well, as portrayed by the author, is a jolly, whole-souled, honest, 
courageous American lad, who appeals to the hearts of the boys. 
He has no bad habits, and his manliness inculcates the idea that 
it is not necessary for a boy to indulge in petty vices to be a hero. 
Frank Merriwell’s example is a shining light for every ambitious 
lad to follow. 

Six volumes now ready : 

1 — Frank MerriwelTs Schooldays. 

2 — Frank Merriwell’.s Chums. 

3 — Frank Merriweli’s Foes. 

4 — Frank MerriwelFs Trip West. 

5 — Frank Merriwell Down South. 

6 — Frank Merriwell’s Bravery. 

NOW LISTED IN THE BOYS’ OWN LIBRARY 
i2mo, cloth, illustrated. 

Price, per volume, 75 cents. 


For sale by all booksellers, or sent, postpaid, on receipt of price 
by the publishers. Street & Smith, 238 William St., New York City. 


LS D '18 


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